


Morality, Dost Thou Hear Me?

by nana_banana



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! 5D's, Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blindshipping, Blood, Character Death, Fae & Fairies, Gore, Illness, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Characters - Freeform, Puzzleshipping, Shapeshifting, Supernatural Elements, Violence, Werewolves, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2018-08-28 00:48:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 79,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8424178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nana_banana/pseuds/nana_banana
Summary: Due to tragic circumstances, Atemu returns to his childhood home in search of peace. However, peace seems far out of reach as an unusually fierce cold threatens to bring him down to his knees. Unbeknownst to Atemu, this is only the beginning of his troubles.If Atemu can manage to put aside his prejudices and pettiness, perhaps the Good Witch could lend him a hand.





	1. Illness

**Author's Note:**

> First and foremost, Happy Halloween! *Oooh, spooky*
> 
> Hello, dear friends, today I bring you that one fic I've been working on since November, 2015. It's a year later and this fic is near completion, so I decided to finally post it because a [twitter poll](https://twitter.com/uglybuffet/status/777759924470165504) told me to.
> 
> Backstory: I started writing this when I developed a severe cold last year. But then it _grew_ like my fics tend to do, and I ended up with this 100K fic. 
> 
> I sure hope you enjoy!

One cold afternoon, a beautiful black bird flew above the barren trees of the forest that ran alongside the town. Winter was nipping at the heels of the area with icy, biting winds. For days it threatened to snow with overcast skies of heavy, dark clouds looming over the forest and accompanying town. However, snow did not fall, leaving a breathtaking chill in the air. With a loud caw, the raven soared over a large clearing, circling a large Italianate home at the center. The three-story home was a sand dollar beige with charcoal-black cornice bracketing and corner boards. It had arched windows, elaborate three-sided window bays, and a narrow porch with thin columns. The beautiful home stood alone but for the small, cottage shed with a matching color scheme standing several yards away. It sat a couple of miles into the forest, making the building a solitary retreat for the single being within it.

Decreasing altitude, the raven rounded the home, quickly swooping in through an open window and descending upon a dusty, dark mahogany desk with a flutter of wings. A quick glance around the empty study was enough for the bird to transform without worry. Taking flight, the raven seemed to burst into a shower of feathers. They rained down, a fluttering, glossy, black rain. When the last feather floated to the ground, a naked man stood in the center of the oak floor, shivering and shoulders hunched. Hissing with the cold, the man swiftly turned and darted to the window, shutting it with a snap. Rubbing at his arms, he shuffled over to the door where a beige bathrobe hung on a peg and took it. He pulled it on, shuddering at the feel of the cold cloth.

Once he had tied it closed, he grabbed the dust pan and broom in the corner of the room and swept up the feathers. Tossing them into a bin that sat by the door, he ventured out of the small room. The floor was frigidly cold under his feet, though the maroon, Persian rug that ran down the hall dampened the icy feeling. He made his way to the spiral staircase and descended it quickly. At the bottom, he paused in the foyer at the sound of the wind howling against the front door. He glanced left, looking down to the end of the dark hall behind him to the heavy, dark taupe curtains covering the window. He could hear the glass rattle in the frame with the wind, and he made a mental note to buy caulk and fix it.

He turned right, his footsteps loud on the marble floor before they softened to dull thuds on the oak wood of the living room. He cut through, passing the fireplace and venturing into the open kitchen where he immediately spotted the coffeemaker tucked into the corner of the counter. Pulling it out of its spot, the man plugged it in with a flourish. Grabbing the glass carafe from its base, he filled it with tap water, glancing around to the fireplace in the living room that lay empty and lifeless. He vaguely considered starting a fire to warm up the gelid home, but thought against it almost immediately. The wood, he recalled, was piled outside under a tarp and he had no desire to step into the freezing cold a second time.

Returning his attention to the glass carafe, he turned off the water and set it aside. Glancing around, he noted two doors, and made his way to the left one, the pantry. Opening it, he spied the large container of regular dark roast peeking out from behind a small sack of sugar. Taking it, he soon had the coffeemaker brewing and he patiently waited with his arms crossed, leaning against the edge of the eggnog-colored marble top of the island. He spied his appearance in the toaster and moved forward to pick it up, examining his distorted reflection. His black hair was sticking up and messy with a couple of golden highlights running through the length of it. His royal-blue eyes were a stark contrast against his hair, shining like blue sapphires among the obsidian-black. Running a hand through his locks, the man smiled, checking his teeth before setting the metal contraption back onto the counter.

It was not long before the coffeemaker finished dripping the dark brew, and the man produced two mugs and a spoon from the dish rack beside the sink. He took the carafe and filled them before reaching for the glass sugar bowl sitting idly by. Taking it, he lifted the lid and added a spoonful of sugar to each coffee before placing the lid back on and pushing it back to its place against the wall. He stirred both coffees before moving to the refrigerator and taking the milk. Uncapping the gallon, he stirred the milk into one mug, turning it a caramel brown before putting it away. He took a mug in each hand and sipped at the black coffee, sighing as his insides began to warm in the cold of the house.

Making his way back to the foyer, he climbed the dark oak staircase. At the landing, he turned and climbed the second, narrower, staircase to a solitary door. Deftly, he moved the mug into the crook of his arm and grabbed the handle, opening the door. As he walked in, he took in the room with a frown and a slight sense of relief as the warm air washed over him. Though it was small, barely allowing space for the mattress in the corner and the humming space heater in the other, the compact area meant there was less space to heat, and he was glad for the warmth that enveloped him as he stepped inside. In the third corner, was a mahogany dresser, its drawers slightly ajar with clothes spilling out of it. In front of it was a heap of clothes, but whether they were dirty or not was up for debate.

The owner of the room, by all appearances, was a complete slob. More clothes, some tissues, and even some mail, littered the rest of the floor. Sighing, he stepped in, nudging clothes aside with his foot before he unceremoniously kicked the door closed with his heel, letting it slam against the doorjamb.

On the mattress, a prone figure jerked to life, startled by the sonorous bang. He watched as the figure struggled under a mountain of comfort before a grouchy redhead emerged from beneath the pile of blankets. He sat up, opening bleary, violet-red eyes to direct a heated glare in his direction. Dazed, he swayed for a moment before he seemed to register the other man's appearance.

“Are you kidding me, Yuusei?” the redhead grumbled thickly, sniffing noisily as he settled back down. “You're such an asshole,” he muttered. He coughed harshly, and it sounded like pieces of his lungs would spray from his mouth with the force of it. With one hand covering his mouth and the other gripping at his chest, he groaned as he flipped over onto his stomach.

“You're still sick,” Yuusei observed with a tone of disbelief. He had been there a few times over the course of two months since the redhead had arrived. Shortly after settling in, he had contracted the sickness and he had yet to heal. If anything, the redhead only seemed to be getting worse. Yuusei approached then, grabbing the mug he held in his arm and sipping from it. “You're a werewolf,” he said, brow furrowed as his observant eyes examined the sick man on the bed, “you shouldn't still be sick. It's been a month.”

“And a half,” muttered the redhead miserably. “Coming here was a mistake. It's cold as fuck and I hate it. Kill me.” He sighed and coughed again before asking, “When did you even get here? I didn't hear you come in.”

“Just now,” answered Yuusei, bewildered, “didn't you hear me downstairs?”

“Whatever you did to cloak yourself worked,” said the redhead. “Congrats, you bested me – can't even hear your heartbeat.” There was a beat of silence as Yuusei absorbed those words. As children, there had been many times when he had attempted to hide himself, taking on the few disguises he had known to try and fool the redhead, but this was not such a time. The line of his mouth thinned grimly and he took a breath.

“...Maybe,” Yuusei said, blue eyes searching the redhead, “you should consider magic. A month and a half is too long.”

With a throaty huff, the redhead sighed heavily before struggling onto his back and sitting up. His body visibly fought against the movement, arms trembling and body jerking to cooperate. When he was finally up, he gasped for breath before dissolving into another fit, each cough sounding like a kick to the gut. A moment passed as the redhead calmed, trying to breathe through the congestion and phlegm. He rubbed at his eyes, looking up with another hard, yet tired glare.

“A fucking witch?” the redhead said tiredly. “Get out of my house, Yuusei.”

“Atemu,” Yuusei said calmly, “it wouldn't kill you to at least try –” But before he could finish his sentence, Atemu was talking over him.

“The hell do you think a witch _is?”_ he said, “It wasn't fairy dust that killed Akhenaden. 'Wouldn't kill me to try'?” He tried to scoff, but only succeeded in coughing violently. He sighed, eyes closing tightly for a single moment. When he opened them, Yuusei frowned at the exhaustion clinging to Atemu like a second skin. There were dark circles under his feverish eyes, his ochre-brown skin was pallid and his cheeks flushed. “I'm not going to a fucking witch.”

Yuusei recalled that time, the day Atemu's uncle had been murdered. He had been ten years old, and Atemu fourteen. As the pack leader's right hand man, Akhenaden's death had sent the entire pack into a vengeful frenzy. Fingers were pointed until the culprits had finally been singled out. Witches, they had said, and a year later, witches they had hanged. Yuusei had only managed to stay a couple of years more before he packed up and left for pastures that were greener, without the rusty taint of blood. He had stayed in touch with Atemu, finding his way until he had found this town three years ago at sixteen. Then, after not seeing him for six years, Atemu had shown up out of the blue, looking worse for wear and more quiet than Yuusei was used to. Nonetheless, he had welcomed Atemu with open arms. Without prompting, Yuusei helped him settle into the large home. He was glad to have Atemu around again.

But things were slightly different from six years ago. This Atemu was not as he remembered.

Holding out the second mug, Yuusei was silent as Atemu took it with a grateful nod. He watched Atemu for several moments before seating himself beside the mattress, back against the wall. There was a stool between him and the mattress, the seat of it covered in over-the-counter medicine of every type. With a glance, he could tell most were empty. He tried again.

“If you don't want to get help, that's your decision,” he said, “but if you ever change your mind, there's a shop downtown. You can't miss it. I've never actually been, but Jack and some other folk told me the witch is good.”

“No such thing as a good witch,” Atemu said and Yuusei's hold on his mug tightened minutely.

Indeed, Atemu was different. The Atemu he had known had been arrogant, but accepting, and did not hesitate to fight for what he thought was right. This one, however, was narrow-minded, cold, and condescending, a far cry from the Atemu he had grown up with. He was consumed with a bitterness that Yuusei did not understand.

“That's your father talking,” Yuusei said quietly and Atemu shrugged.

“He was rarely wrong,” Atemu said dismissively.

“He also said I was gutter trash,” Yuusei remarked, eyeing Atemu closely, “I'm paraphrasing, but you get my point.”

_“Rarely_ wrong, not _never,”_ Atemu said apologetically. He shrugged. “I'm going to trust him on this, though. A witch _did_ kill my uncle.” Rubbing at his eyes, Atemu yawned before coughing and sneezing simultaneously. Fortunately, he did not spill the coffee. Grimacing, he wiped his face on a sheet. He drank more coffee before he sneezed again into the mug. “Ugh,” he said, “fuck this death flu.”

“Your uncle wasn't a good person anyway,” Yuusei mumbled.

“I heard that,” Atemu said and Yuusei shrugged.

“Werewolf hearing,” he said, “what a gift.”

“Yeah, well, you never had to hear your parents having sex,” Atemu said as he set the mug on the floor and laboriously rolled out of bed to his feet. He stepped over Yuusei who stared down into his own mug, his expression indiscernible.

“No,” Yuusei said quietly, “I didn't.” As Atemu wandered into the small bathroom, he directed his attention to the pile of clothes before the dresser. “Mind if I borrow something?” he asked as he got to his feet, “I flew here and now I'm freezing my balls off. I'm lucky one of your windows was open or I would have had to change outside.”

“I left a window open?” Atemu questioned aloud before he called back, “Catch any bugs?”

Yuusei huffed in amusement.

“Not really,” he said, “clothes?”

“Go for it,” Atemu said through the closed door, and Yuusei could hear him taking a piss, “just remember the rule – wash whatever you use before you return it and don't change form in them. Getting the hair out is a pain in the ass.”

Yuusei acknowledged Atemu with a hum as he made his way over to the pile, singlehandedly browsing through the clothes before settling on a plain black shirt, a zip-up green sweater, and a pair of dark-wash jeans. By the time he was dressed and comfortable, Atemu was coming out of the bathroom, looking only slightly less like hell in his flannel pants and long-sleeved blue shirt.

“Nice hair,” Yuusei chuckled, nodding to the red and yellow bush that occupied Atemu's head.

Irately, Atemu ran both of his hands through it, attempting to flatten it in any way. When his hair refused to cooperate, Atemu gave up with a huff and a cough. He yanked on a golden bang, grunting.

“Fuck off, Yuusei,” he said before sighing.

“About to,” Yuusei replied, “only came over to make sure you hadn't died and to see how you've been settling in.” He motioned to Atemu. “As soon as you start feeling better, take a walk through town. Sooner folk know you're here, the better. You don't want anyone getting nervous about a werewolf in the woods … Jack's skittish as it is. His fragile unicorn senses make him distrust you – your attitude didn't help either.”

“Sure,” Atemu said, though it seemed more placating than a promise, and Yuusei nodded his head at him before letting out a thoughtful hum.

“Also,” Yuusei said, “a job wouldn't hurt – it would help you familiarize yourself with the people of the town. You don't want to be a stranger here.” He noted the frown on Atemu's face with a sigh. Shaking his head, Yuusei downed the rest of his coffee and cleared his throat. “It would only benefit you,” he said, “and you could use some friends. It's been two months since you got here. How many people have you met?”

Atemu did not answer him and Yuusei nodded without saying another word. Turning, he waved and walked out of the room.

“Ugh,” Atemu said in annoyance once Yuusei had closed the door, “beneficial, my ass.” Sniffing, he sighed before glancing about his small room. There were several other bedrooms in the house, perfectly suitable for him. One of them had been his long ago, but Atemu did not feel comfortable staying in any of them. Walking into them felt as though he were visiting with ghosts. He could not bear to be in any room, the melancholy in his heart would not allow it.

When he entered a bedroom, it brought back a flood of memories that gripped his heart tight and refused to let go. In the single room on the third floor, Atemu had no such problems. He had no memories of it, as it had only been used for storage and the dust had given him allergies when he was a child. As such, it was easy to live in, a blank space in a house haunted by his childhood memories. Looking around, Atemu's eyes fell upon the suitcase next to the drawers and he sighed.

 

_Placing the packed duffel on top of_ the suitcase, Atemu hooked the straps over the handle and yanked it up halfway. He placed his hand upon it, staring down at it blankly. He could hear someone walking in the front door downstairs. The heartbeat, combined with the steady footsteps as they climbed the stairs were easily recognizable. On any other occasion, they might have been welcomed with a grin and a taunting comment. Today, however, Atemu barely had the energy to remain standing. It was taking everything within him to keep a straight face when there was a hollow inside him threatening to collapse his entire being. Taking a deep breath, his shoulders stiffened when the door opened behind him. He was in no way ready for a confrontation.

“What do you think you're doing?” said the man behind him, but it was clear by the angry tone in his voice that he knew exactly what Atemu was doing. “They're waiting for you in the courthouse.”

“I can't stay here, so I'm leaving,” Atemu said easily, but his shrug was stiff. “If you need me,” he continued, “I'll be up north –”

“Your _pack_ needs you,” the man spat out.

“Let me correct myself then,” Atemu said as he took one last glance around his bedroom, “don't need me.” He had packed all his essentials and clothes. He was not taking much, especially not a thing with sentimental value. He eyed the picture frame sitting on the bedside table, heart clenching in his chest. It was a picture of him, standing on one side of a hand-beaded slipper chair where his mother sat, one hand on her shoulder. Her hair was red, her eyes the color of wine, and she was the only one smiling. With one hand on her lap, the other was tenderly placed over Atemu's on her shoulder. On her other side was a tall man with a serious expression and trimmed facial hair, one hand cupping the back of the woman's neck, the other tucked into his suit jacket. He stood, imposing and seemingly indestructible.

Atemu looked away.

“Take care of things,” Atemu said, lifting the handle of the suitcase all the way up and turning to the tall, brown-haired man at the door. He walked, rolling his things behind him, and passed the man by without a word.

“You can't just _leave,”_ snapped the man, but Atemu did not slow, “you have a duty!”

Pausing at the top of the staircase, Atemu did not bother turning around when he spoke.

“It's yours now,” Atemu said, “congrats. You're pack leader now like you've always wanted.”

But before Atemu could take a single step, the man was speaking again.

“Never like this,” he said quietly.

Without answering, Atemu made his way down the stairs and out the front door. He did not stop. He did not look back. _Atemu merely walked up to the car, placed his things in the trunk, and got into the driver's seat before taking off._

 

It had been two months since then and Atemu did not regret his choice to leave.

Closing his eyes, Atemu breathed, his lungs protesting the action with several violent coughs. Doubling over, he covered his mouth with his hand, his other arm trying to hold himself together as his body shivered and shook. A particularly vicious cough buckled his legs and he fell to his knees. Quickly, he threw an arm out, stopping himself from face-planting on the ground. His arm trembled until his fit finally dialed down, and he breathed raggedly, his ribs aching. Slowly, he lifted his hand to his eyes and peered at his palm, his eyes widening at the sight of blood splattered across his skin.

_I'm getting worse,_ he thought with incredulity, wiping his hand on his pants. With quivering limbs, he pushed to his feet, lightheaded as he straightened to his full height. He halted, gathering his wits and blinking through the spots in his vision. Eventually, they faded away and he felt ready to move again. He looked to the stout stool by his bed. On it were several bottles of human medicine he had emptied over the course of his ongoing illness. Shaking his head, he looked around at the piles of clothes on the floor. As he got sicker and sicker, Atemu had neglected to do basic laundry or put away the laundry he _had_ managed to do. The trek from the third floor to the basement had grown to be a chore for his aching muscles, and Atemu suspected that he did not even have any clean clothes left. Taking a short breath that would not aggravate his lungs, Atemu headed to a pile and grabbed the first pair of jeans he saw, dropping his sleep wear as he went. He did not bother to smell them as his nose was stuffed to high heaven, though he did make sure they at least _looked_ clean. But even when he saw the rips and grass stains, Atemu shrugged it off and pulled them on. Being as sick as he was, he did not care if his clothes were clean or not. With that, he grabbed a thick, grey hoodie from the pile of clothes and put it on over his blue shirt. Looking into the vanity mirror he had grabbed from one of the rooms downstairs, Atemu deemed his appearance grotesque.

Uncaring, he stepped into the boots at the end of his bed without knotting them and switched off the electric heater. He needed to make yet another pharmacy run, and he dreaded the tiring walk into town. His car had mysteriously stopped working, and Atemu had yet to ask Yuusei to check it. Taking a couple of short breaths, he left the room, making his way downstairs. He could hear the television come on in the living room. It was one of the only things in the house that was his. He had bought it within a day from arriving and had a cable technician there that very same day to set it up. As he reached the first floor, he looked into the living room and spotted Yuusei watching it.

“Leaving?” Yuusei called without turning, and Atemu coughed again.

“Going to the pharmacy,” Atemu grunted as he made his way over, eyeing the news currently playing. “I won't be long,” Atemu added, “but if you leave before I get back, don't lock the door.” He turned to go and paused, frowning. “Oh,” Atemu said, “if you change form in the house, clean up after yourself. I don't want hair, feathers, scales, and whatever everywhere –”

“Scales?” Yuusei echoed, “Because I'm going to change into a fish right on your couch, right? Doesn't matter that it's _hard_ for me to turn into fish, I'm just going to do that right here with no water. Great idea, Atemu –”

“Oh, shut up, Yuusei,” Atemu groaned, running his hands irately through his hair, “you know what I _mean.”_

“Yeah, sure,” Yuusei said, “I got it. Don't worry.”

“Good,” Atemu mumbled, nodding as he began to make his way back to the door. “Also, undo whatever you did to hide your heartbeat,” Atemu said as he left, “it's unsettling.” Without another word, he walked on and left the house, shivering in the cold. Slowly, he trudged through the dead grass and leaves, sniffling and suffering as he made his way to town down the overgrown path.


	2. Witch Is The New Punk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unable to take the accursed cold any longer, Atemu ventures out for more medicine, but he might be getting more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a new chapter! Enjoy! ♡

Atemu walked down the street, wiping occasionally at his watery eyes with the back of his hand. All around were civilians, bundled against the cold. They were laughing, shopping, and eating croissants at the café on the corner. Their cheer, however, was lost on Atemu. He ignored them as he glanced around, shivering in the cold and desiring a thicker coat. Abruptly, the spicy scent of sage suffused his senses and he sniffed, using the sleeve of his sweater to rub at his running nose. He paused, finding it miraculous that he could smell anything at all with the way his sinuses were stuffed up. Confused, he looked around at the end of the street, trying to discern where the scent had come from without much success. The stores all looked completely mundane in a supernatural perspective. None stood apart in his gaze.

“I should've asked Yuusei for directions,” Atemu grumbled to himself, sneezing for what seemed the hundredth time that day. He wiped his face with his sleeve and pinched the bridge of his nose in pain. A headache was beginning to form at his brow, pulsing and unforgiving. He groaned, breathing as deep as he could before sighing. Earlier, after arriving at the closest drugstore, Atemu had stared at the wall of medicines, peering at each in turn as his vision blurred, and finally admitted to himself that human remedies had done him no good. So with a reluctant heart, he had left without buying a thing. He had then proceeded to walk all over downtown, looking for the accursed witch's shop, but he had yet to find it. Turning back around, he began walking once more. This time, he peered at the shops carefully, sniffling every three seconds in an attempt to keep the snot from escaping his nostrils.

Suddenly lightheaded, he stopped halfway down the block, closing his eyes momentarily to regain his bearings. When he reopened them, he glanced around, noting the one store across the street that had hanging sage plants on either side of the door. Emblazoned in curly, purple letters on the large sign stuck to the second floor was “The Witch's Menagerie”. Atemu stopped for all of one minute, staring at it and recalling Yuusei's words.

_“...The shop's downtown. You can't miss it.”_

“How did I miss that?” Atemu said, indignant. He had been down this block three times and was certain that store had not been there before. Brushing off his annoyance at the elusive store, Atemu reread the store name, The Witch's Menagerie, and frowned.

“There's no way a witch would be that stupid,” he said quietly, staring.

 _You don't just announce to the world that you're a witch,_ he thought.

Frowning severely, he started forward, only to come close to leaping out of his skin when a car horn jarred him out of his reverie.

“Watch where you're going, you jaywalking moron!” the driver shouted out the window as he swerved around Atemu and drove on.

“Up yours!” Atemu called after the car, affronted and startled that he had not even noticed it. He cursed his dulled senses and made sure to look both ways before jogging across the street, panting and coughing from the exertion when he reached the sidewalk. The aching in his lungs only egged him on, reassuring him in his tentative choice regarding the witch. Once safe, he focused on the shop again, the scent of sage from the hanging plants coming to him in beckoning whispers. Through the window, he spied plenty of shelves and suspicious-looking trinkets, but no people. There was a sign tucked against the window. It read:

_Fortune teller inside!_  
_Have your fortune told ten ways 'til Sunday._  
_Ask for The Great Sugoroku._

Eyebrow rising, Atemu nodded to himself. This had to be the place Yuusei was talking about. However, Atemu had his doubts.

Carefully, he stepped forward. There was a “Yes, We're Open!” sign that hung on the glass pane and he sighed, relieved that he had not come all this way for nothing. Pulling the door ajar, he peered around suspiciously. A small, tinkling bell greeted him, but nothing else. The shop really _was_ empty. The register by the wall was alone and unmanned, and that in itself made Atemu wary.

 _What kind of person leaves a shop unattended?_ Atemu asked himself.

By all sense and purposes, the shop was empty of life. He could almost smell other plants, but his nose was so stuffed that Atemu could not tell for sure. His eyes, however, could not see a single plant within view, only merchandise. Closing his eyes, he listened carefully, frowning when he could not hear any heartbeats, not even those from the humans outside. He cursed his illness again and worry began to eat at him. It was not normal for him to be this affected by such an ordinary illness. Scowling, he called out.

“Hello? Customer here.”

The faint, but sure sound of clinking and shattering glass was his answer, followed by a rushed, “Just a minute!” from what seemed like below. He looked down at the floor, confused.

“Yo!” another voice called out, and Atemu gave a start as his head whipped around to the register where a teenager stood, smiling from ear to ear. “You're a werewolf,” he said, brown eyes bright, and his nose scrunched up as though he had smelled something putrid, “a sick werewolf. Yikes, dude, you smell like death.” He waved a hand in front of his nose. “You should see a doctor for that.”

Bristling indignantly, Atemu glared at the brown-haired teen and grimaced, looking around quickly with a small sense of panic. However, the store was still empty of anyone but them.

“Werewolf?” he asked suspiciously, and the teen grinned even wider than before. But before he could answer, a new voice made itself known.

“Juudai, there was a bit of an accident in the basement, can you please clean it up while I tend to our customer?”

“Aw, man, do I gotta?” the teenager, Juudai, whined before he sighed and leapt over the counter with showy reflexes that Atemu could have easily done himself had he not been sick like a dog – he cursed the comparison in his head.

“Well then, watch me _disappear!”_ Juudai said, wagging his fingers before he threw something to the ground, and a large amount of smoke billowed out. It obscured him, and Atemu frowned severely at the cheap gimmick. His wariness grew in that moment as he saw Juudai’s vague form dart away, dashing behind a shelf before he was gone.

 _This was a mistake,_ Atemu thought with no small amount of despair.

He looked away as he heard Juudai’s audible footsteps retreat to the back of the store, prepared to tell the employee that he was getting the hell out of there. But returning to his home would mean his tiring venture had been in vain. Atemu refused to go home empty-handed. Gritting his teeth, his eyes fell upon a short person with a head of spiked, eggplant-purple hair. As the newcomer was busy looking off into the direction the teen had gone, Atemu assessed him, eyes wide. He wore a black, sleeveless shirt, with a spiked dog collar and matching cuffs on his wrists. He was obviously punk and wore pants so tight that Atemu winced sympathetically.

 _What the hell?_ Atemu thought, _Please tell me this isn't the supposed witch. I'll take the teenager over this weirdo._ Abruptly, the stranger turned to look at him, and Atemu was almost startled by his face. _Exactly how old is this kid?_ he thought, bewildered. Atemu noted a small crease in his brow before their eyes met and he stilled completely. The punk, a young Japanese man, had plum-colored eyes that were rimmed in eyeliner. They flashed with purple light and he blinked in confusion. After a second of surprise, Atemu blamed the flash on the reflection of the fluorescent bulbs above. The stranger's face was slightly round with blonde, curly bangs framing it. He did not even look old enough to legally imbibe. Atemu had not known what he was expecting, but a young face was definitely not it.

“And you are?” Atemu asked, surly as the very young adult continued to blink at him, looking almost startled by Atemu in turn.

“I,” he said uncertainly before shaking his head and clearing his throat, “I am Yuugi.” He smiled then, and the sweetness of it seemed misplaced on a punk. “I'm the witch you seek.”

Sharply taken aback, Atemu faltered, disbelieving.

“You?” Atemu said and it came out more forceful than he intended, but Yuugi did not even flinch. He met Atemu's incredulous gaze evenly and nodded. “But you're … a dude,” Atemu said, “and...”

“And?” Yuugi asked.

“...Not ugly?” Atemu tried, and Yuugi suddenly laughed, shaking his head with amusement.

“Sorry to disappoint,” he said with a cheeky smile, “but just so you know, men can be witches too.” He shrugged. “And the ugliness you expected,” he continued, “only come from those who've taken lives using black magic. It basically reflects the ugliness within.” Then he added, “Of course, I could simply be using a spell to hide it, like glamour.” A wry smile tilted the edge of his lips in humor, and he shrugged. “I've heard that's a thing, though glamour is something else entirely.” He pressed a finger to his chin in thought. “But you would be able to smell that kind of spell,” he said with a hum, “I've heard it smells sweet like candy.”

Sniffing noisily, Atemu frowned.

“Obviously,” he said thickly, “I can't smell anything.”

“Right,” Yuugi said, brushing a stray bang of blonde hair away from his face. He cleared his throat. “So,” he said, “how can I help you?”

Atemu tried very hard not to roll his eyes and sighed.

“I've got a hell of a flu,” he replied, “got anything for that?”

“I only work in magic,” Yuugi said, his face falling slightly, “I'm not a doctor –”

“Well, can you direct me to someone who _can_ help?” Atemu asked rudely, “Human medicine isn't working and I'm only getting worse. I'm losing my senses.”

Yuugi opened his mouth to reply when he suddenly frowned. His role of a cheerful employee quickly dispersed into something more natural and calculating.

“What are you exactly?” he asked, and Atemu glanced around the shop, quiet. There were tarot cards with cartoon depictions and flashy charms on the shelves. He could see incense sticks, candles, and even a section dedicated to cheap mass-produced magic kits and games. In another, separate section, he saw adult content: lube, condoms, books on sex and the art of sensuality. Next to it in the corner was an area swallowed by heavy purple curtains, the front of them parted to reveal a spacious alcove with a table and two lounging chairs at either side. On top of the table, was your typical crystal ball. The place looked like any run-of-the-mill occult-slash-convenience store and Atemu strongly suspected that this witch was a hack. He could not tell Yuugi he was a werewolf out of self-preservation. “A werewolf,” Yuugi said quietly, and Atemu looked at him with surprise. He was ready to question him when Yuugi asked, “How long have you been sick?”

“A month and a half,” Atemu said with a skeptical frown.

“Lift up your shirt for me,” Yuugi said, and Atemu stepped back, eyebrows raised and eyes cautious. “I need to check your chest,” Yuugi clarified, and Atemu grimaced before finally pulling up his sweater and shirt. “Higher,” Yuugi said, and Atemu complied, lifting the cloth to his collarbone. He jumped slightly when Yuugi's warm fingers touched the skin over his heart and a zap of static electricity stung him.

 _“Ow,”_ Atemu said pointedly.

“Sorry,” Yuugi mumbled, and Atemu looked down at his chest where Yuugi was staring so intently. There was a dark-colored bruise on the surface and Atemu stared at it, disconcerted by the sight. He had not noticed that before.

Yuugi abruptly pulled his hand away, and the bruise faded to nothing.

“Oh,” Yuugi said, face surprised before it cleared of expression. He nodded and looked up at Atemu. “I do have something for you,” he said, “what's your name?”

 _Atemu,_ Atemu thought unwittingly and he frowned, silent. Though he did not answer, Yuugi smiled and motioned for him to lower his shirt.

“Follow me, Atemu,” Yuugi said, turning and walking off.

For a moment, Atemu stood in shock before huffing indignantly.

 _Damn witches,_ he thought.

Following Yuugi, Atemu walked on full alert, glancing around at the shelves with a disapproving frown on his face. The products on sale were tame, exactly like a human shop – those with only the vaguest idea of what magic really was. Atemu himself was far from an expert, but he highly doubted a rabbit's foot and porcelain horseshoes constituted as real magical protection.

“Are you really a witch?” he asked. “The crap on your shelves looks like every other store. You're just some hokey psychic, aren't you?” When Yuugi did not answer him, Atemu turned to look at him, freezing in place when Yuugi passed through the back wall, disappearing without a trace.

 _Well, that answers that question,_ he thought idly.

Atemu stared for a moment, realizing belatedly that the wall was but an illusion. He slowly walked through as well, shivering as a cold draft passed through him, chilling him to the bone. When he looked down, he saw a line of teal-colored chalk. He had passed through a barrier of some sort. Shrugging off the cold, he looked ahead to the true shop. Shelves upon shelves were filled with trinkets, amulets, ingredients, jars with questionable and colorful substances, balls of white cloth closed with twine, potions, books, et cetera. None of the silly crap from before. When he spotted a unicorn horn within a glass case, sharp with a mother-of-pearl sheen, he approached with curiosity.

 _There's no way that's real,_ Atemu thought, reaching out a hand to touch the glass. He had barely touched the surface when it stung him and he snatched his hand back, looking down at it, startled.

“It's protected by a spell,” Yuugi called, and Atemu looked at him. With a spell like that, he was inclined to think that maybe Yuugi was the real deal.

 _Or,_ Atemu thought, _he's tech-savvy and I just got stung by a repurposed bug zapper._

At the far side of the shop, Yuugi was rummaging behind the counter, pulling tools from underneath to place on the wood. He set down a glass cutting board, a knife, a medium-sized bowl, and finally, a roughly hewn stone mortar and pestle. With a roll of his eyes, he made his way over, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve as he went. There were already ingredients sitting on its surface. Atemu recognized ginger root and cinnamon, a dark scowl pulling at his brow as his skepticism grew. Those were cooking ingredients, not magical.

“You _do_ know what you're doing, right?” he asked. He waited for an answer of any kind, but Yuugi only began to grind ingredients, starting with the cinnamon. He did not look up, though his brow creased the slightest bit. “Are you a beginner?” he tried.

 _I'm not going to die because of some apprentice mishap,_ he thought bitterly.

“Don't you know you're not supposed to piss off a witch?” said the teenager, Juudai, and his brown head suddenly popped up behind the counter. He straightened, staring at Atemu with large brown eyes. “Not that Yuugi would ever hurt anyone,” he said with a shrug, “but, dude, don't be rude.” He leaned back down and a loud slam of wood echoed through the shop. It was only then that Yuugi looked up from his work to give Juudai a stern look. Under his gaze, Juudai flinched and shrugged apologetically.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, “'don't slam the trap door.' My bad.” He waved a sheepish hand, and Yuugi was quick to catch it. He carefully lowered it, and Juudai grimaced. “Ah, right,” he said, “no hand-waving in the shop.” He then looked to Atemu with a smile. “So you're a werewolf,” he said happily, “how cool is that? Smelled it on you when you came in – I thought it'd be harder, but you smell a little like me. Are both your parents werewolves? I'm half. Mom was a werewolf and dad was a witch.” He sighed slightly and shrugged. “They kicked the bucket when I was little. Can you tell this is the first time I've ever met another werewolf? We never get any around here. There used to be a family in the woods, but they moved away before I was even born – or so grandpa tells me. He said they weren't very nice anyway. Do you get, like, super itchy once a month –”

“Juudai,” Yuugi said gently as he worked, “he's not interested.”

Abruptly, Juudai quieted, looking at Atemu with a small amount of disappointment before he shrugged and smiled.

“Sorry,” he said.

“I didn't even say anything,” Atemu groused, though he could not deny Yuugi's words. He received the barest glance from Yuugi for his comment, a brief flash from those plum-colored orbs. But Yuugi said nothing and retrieved his standby knife from the oak wood counter, using it to cut up the ginger root and add it to the pile of ingredients in the wooden bowl.

 _Ugh,_ Atemu thought, _please tell me I don't have to eat that._

“Yuugi can read minds,” Juudai supplied helpfully, “it's his gift.”

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_ Atemu cursed in his head, noting the amused way Yuugi's lips quirked at the edges. The witch could indeed hear his thoughts, but Atemu instantly brushed any semblance of guilt aside. He crossed his arms, unapologetic.

 _Just my luck,_ he thought, _well, if you're reading my mind, you know I think you're a hack._

He waited for Yuugi's answer, or maybe even his anger, but Yuugi ignored him, continuing his steady task of cutting, grinding, shredding, and pulverizing ingredients.

 _Can you really read minds,_ he thought, _or are you just rude?_

Finally, Yuugi took pause, giving Atemu a rather amused look before reaching out to Juudai and taking a lock of his hair. Swiftly, he cut it, and Juudai turned an insulted face to Yuugi.

“Really?” he asked. “Thanks.” He grabbed at the hair, grimacing as he felt the shortened length of it. When Yuugi added the hair to the ingredients, Atemu pulled a disgusted face. Albeit before he could object, Juudai supplied his answer.

“Literally, hair of the dog,” he said morosely, “I don't mind, but I just got a haircut to fix the last time Yuugi needed it and we've got a jar of it downstairs. Man, now I need another haircut. No wonder Viv keeps calling me her favorite customer.”

 _Hair of the dog,_ Atemu thought, incensed when he realized the implications. _Werewolves aren't dogs –_

“Like it or not,” Yuugi said softly, “it's magic, though I do apologize for the phrasing.” He directed another brief glance at Atemu, though this time he looked uncomfortable and apologetic. However, Atemu was only slightly appeased. He sighed heavily, eyeing the hair with distaste as he sneezed into his sleeve.

 _Could have used mine,_ he thought begrudgingly.

“You're sick,” Yuugi said in answer to his unspoken words, “and the hair has to come from a healthy werewolf. Using yours would make this useless.” With that, Yuugi began to rummage once more behind the counter, humming in consideration. He then procured a flat, ivory-colored stone, examining it before he sighed. Grimacing, he placed it into his mouth.

 _What the fuck?_ Atemu thought, alarmed and disgusted. He watched as Yuugi cupped his hands around his mouth and began to whisper a stream of words before abruptly spitting the stone out onto his hands. Yuugi's eyes squeezed shut and he whimpered, tossing the stone between his hands before setting it onto the cutting board where it hissed menacingly, steam rising from it until the moisture completely evaporated.

 _Please tell me I don't have to put that in my mouth,_ Atemu prayed.

“You can wash it beforehand if you wish,” Yuugi said, voice thick and words stilted as though he had burned his tongue, “though I hear it works better when you don't.” He then pulled a white cloth and a length of brown twine from under the counter. Quickly, he set the stone in the middle, cutting a piece of string to tie the cloth closed around it. He then turned it over and poured the ingredients over the cloth-covered stone before tying that closed too. He looked to Atemu then, smiling at the look of absolute disgust on his face.

“It's tea,” he said, “whether you wash the stone is up to you.” He handed it over to Atemu who took it with a grimace, reluctantly holding it in the palm of his hand. “What you do,” Yuugi said, “is put the stone and tea into thirty-two ounces of boiling water. Steep for five minutes, strain, and drink every drop. You can even add sugar or honey to it if you want. I suggest you do this right before bed because you'll be comatose for about twelve hours afterwards.” He paused, looking hesitant. “Also, I suggest you don't eat or drink at least eight hours before you drink this.”

“Why?” Atemu asked warily.

“'Cause you're gonna blow chunks when you wake up,” Juudai said with a viciously delighted grin.

At the sight of Atemu's wide eyes, Yuugi shrugged.

“Curse has to leave you one way or the other,” he said.

“Curse?” Atemu questioned.

“As a werewolf,” Yuugi said quietly, “human illness is unusual, as I'm sure you're already aware.” He paused, and Atemu nodded. Taking a deep breath, he continued. “Especially a long-lasting illness like the one you've got,” he said, lifting a hand to point at him. “The bruise I brought out on your chest is the mark of a curse.” He fell silent then before dropping his hand and reluctantly stating, “I believe it's meant to kill you.”

 _A fucking curse,_ Atemu thought, _I've been fucking cursed. This actually happens in real life?_

“'Kill me',” he echoed, and when Yuugi nodded, he scoffed.

 _Why am I not surprised?_ he thought.

The twitch to Yuugi's lips and the curious arch of his brow reminded Atemu that his thoughts were not private and he shrugged. Yuugi was a stranger, and Atemu did not owe him any explanations.

“Can you figure out who cursed me?” he asked, and Yuugi shook his head regretfully.

“Not this late,” Yuugi said, and Atemu frowned, confused. Before he could question him, Yuugi answered. “Had it been less than a week, I could have extracted a part of the magic to retrace back to the person it came from. Unfortunately, it's been too long. The magic has broken down and merged with yours.”

“I don't have any magic,” Atemu said, and Yuugi opened his mouth to explain, but Atemu was exhausted. His head hurt, his body ached, and he had no desire to listen to Yuugi prattle on any longer, no matter how pleasant his voice was. He interrupted. “How much?” he asked.

“On the house,” Yuugi said between his teeth as he smiled.

Taken aback, Atemu stared at Yuugi in disbelief. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and his hand clenched on the tea.

“What is this?” he asked, “A trial excursion to make me buy more?” He grit his teeth as a sudden thought occurred to him. “Or do you want something _different_ as payment?” he accused.

“I don't want _anything_ as payment,” Yuugi said and he sighed heavily as Atemu scoffed at him. “Your ill intent,” Yuugi said stiffly, “will taint anything you give me and I want none of it.”

“Excuse me?” Atemu said, perplexed and sniffing noisily as the snot threatened to spill from his nose. Unsurprisingly, Juudai's face wrinkled with disgust, but Yuugi's remained impassive. “Ill intent?”

“All magical folk,” Yuugi patiently explained, “large or small, have inherent magic. While yours may not be the type of obvious magic I do, you still have the innate ability to channel thought, or rather, intent, into whatever you touch. In this case, your prejudice against my kind will taint the money you give me and those vibes are not ones I want in my shop.” With a tired smile, Yuugi sighed. “I hope once your illness is cured,” he said quietly, “your opinion of me will change. But for now, kindly get out.” Without further fuss, Yuugi waved a hand in the direction of the entrance, muttering quickly under his breath, too fast for Atemu to catch. As he turned to look, Yuugi spoke one last time.

“Feel better, Atemu,” he whispered.

Atemu abruptly looked back to Yuugi, eyebrow raised in incredulity, only to find himself staring at rows of mediocre psychic paraphernalia. Blinking in amazement, Atemu glanced at the front door and scoffed, desperately trying to hide the impressed feeling bubbling in his chest.

 _Witches,_ he thought with derision, _my dad always said they were a bunch of showoffs._

He opened the door, taking two steps out before he found himself abruptly colliding with a human body. The bump made him stagger, and he clung to the door as the other person went down with a yelp.

“Damn, what the hell?” he growled and looked down to see a woman with surprised blue eyes and a disheveled bob of brown hair. She gazed up at him, and Atemu suddenly remembered how to act like a decent human being. “Oh … sorry,” he grunted, reaching out a hand. The woman reached up and took his offered hand, pulling herself to her feet before she stilled completely. Her eyes widened and she stared at Atemu in horror. Horror that Atemu did not understand. “What?” he said, nonplussed, and the woman suddenly pulled her hand from his hold, pressing it to her tightly-pursed lips.

“You smell of death,” she whispered in her shock, and Atemu felt his jaw clench as he scowled.

He had already heard the same from the half-breed mutt within the store. He was in no mood to hear it again.

“Bite me, lady,” he snapped before pushing past her. He was done being insulted by strangers. If anyone else dared insult him, Atemu would bring out claws.

* * *

Upon arriving home, Atemu pulled the bundle from where he had stuffed it into his pocket. Fortunately for him, there had been no further incidents on his journey home. The house was quiet. Yuusei had flown the coop, and Atemu was relieved. The amount of judging eyebrows Yuusei would have put him through for giving in and seeking out the witch was not worth the small chance of the tea actually working. Atemu would sooner throw out the tea than admit he had gone to a witch, of all things, for help. As it was, Atemu was not even sure the tea would work. For all he knew, Yuugi was a con artist with various tricks up his sleeves. Or worse, Yuugi was an actual, powerful witch and had given him a second curse to add insult to injury.

Sighing, Atemu stared at the tea in contemplation, wiping at the snot dripping from his nostrils before giving in and setting a pot of water to boil. After that, Atemu rubbed at his eyes, feeling tired to his very bones. The long walk into town had really taken the strength right out of him. But after heavy consideration, he headed off for his bedroom and into his tiny bathroom. A shower was in order and he did so with great effort, knowing he would regret it if he awoke smelling like he had not bathed in a week, which would be a scarily accurate assumption come morning. So he ridded himself of the disgusting film of caked hair grease, sweat, and whatever else had accumulated in his week without a shower, emerging from the stall feeling only a little better, but much more tired.

He tottered down the stairs into his kitchen in a long-sleeved shirt and thick sweatpants, glancing at the bubbling water before heading over to the bundle he had left on the counter. With a grimace, he considered washing the stone, but upon remembering Yuugi's words, he decided to go for broke and dumped the entire bundle into the pot before turning off the burner. Setting the timer on the stove, he left the tea alone and shuffled back five minutes later to turn off the beeping timer.

Peering skeptically at the liquid, he noted that the ties had fallen apart and the ingredients were floating freely. Sighing, he used a fork to fish out the cloth. With no sieve to strain the tea, he used the cloth itself and poured the brown liquid into a mug. Holding it up to his face, he tried a sniff, startled when his nostrils cleared almost instantly and snot began to flow freely from his nose.

Huffing irately, he used the sleeve of his brown shirt to wipe at his nose, rethinking his decision to go through with the tea. But after a particularly hard sneeze that sprayed glops of blood onto the marble countertop, Atemu made up his mind. Grabbing a cloth from one of the drawers, Atemu wiped down the counter, willing the mug to cool down enough to drink. Once it had, he wrinkled his nose and gulped dryly.

“Ugh,” he groaned and sighed, “here goes nothing.” Taking a tentative sip, Atemu immediately coughed up a storm. His throat burned, his sinuses throbbed, and his stomach protested. It was only by luck that he did not drop the mug.

“Damn!” he gasped. “The hell is in this? Kerosene?” Coughing again to clear his throat, he tilted the mug, glaring at the murky liquid.

 _This is a fucking joke, isn't it?_ he thought despondently. _That damn witch is having a laugh._ Taking a deep breath, he threw caution to the wind, aching to be healthy again. _What was life like before this?_ he thought despairingly as he mentally prepared himself for his arduous task. Steeling himself, he pinched his nose and downed the liquid, wincing as it burned all the way down. Once done, he slammed the mug onto the counter and poured himself more as his stomach simmered forebodingly.

“Fuck it,” he said throatily, “down the hatch.”

* * *

Stumbling, Atemu made it to his room in one piece. It was cold as the space heater was turned off. He wished to turn it on, but Atemu very much doubted he had the time for it. He felt particularly full and nauseous. His stomach sloshed with the tea, giving him the very green-gilled feeling of a rocky boat in the middle of a storm. However, as sick as he felt, sleep pulled at him even more insistently than his need to projectile vomit. He knew he would pass out at any second, but Atemu was determined to reach the comfort of his rumpled bed. Upon sighting the welcome land of fluff and warmth, Atemu's legs weakened and he tripped, landing on his hands and knees. Crawling, he made his way over to the mattress on the floor and climbed into it, rolling onto his back once he had made it. He managed to yank a blanket over his stomach, but before he could even think about getting comfortable, Atemu was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> Important: Letting y'all know that updates for _[The Aftermath](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3874354)_ and _[Misfits In Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4161750)_ will be slower than usual this month. Sorry for the inconvenience!
> 
> Also, if you haven't already, be sure to check out my new one shots: _[Aahmes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8534260)_ and _[The Things You Couldn't Say](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8338237)_! ♡


	3. 99 Problems But A Good Witch Ain't 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a curse on his head, Atemu takes desperate measures with little confidence. A so-called witch gives him a mysterious tea and Atemu very much doubts it'll help. However, the tea works and Atemu is shocked. Chagrined and unwilling to gain another curse, Atemu knows it's time to grovel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! Despite my busy/hectic week, I still found time to squeeze in this chapter! Sorry it's a few hours late. My day was really busy. I really hope you enjoy! ♡

Almost thirteen hours later, Atemu stirred from the haphazard position in which he lay. It was eight in the morning, but with the overcast sky outside, there were no happy rays of sunshine to filter through the three joint windows on the east wall. The absence of the sun only made the room colder, and Atemu shivered. His limbs were frigid and stiff as he shifted onto his side and slowly curled his body, a guttural groan leaving his lips. With his shift, the contents of his stomach flopped over like a dead opossum and his intestines screamed in pain. His entire body ached like he had been hit by a semi. And he would know, as he had once been hit by one a night long ago.

Although nothing felt broken, Atemu felt bruised and tender like a newborn babe. To complete the feeling, the urge to scream for his mother was there as well, pressing against his skull like a bad hangover. Only, this was unlike any hangover he had ever had. At sixteen, when his parents had left him home alone, Atemu had broken into the liquor cabinet, making off with three rather special bottles of whiskey to share with Yuusei and his three cousins: the twins, and Malik, the reclusive son of a then deceased Akhenaden and the oldest by two years. Yuusei, though, had refused any, having only been twelve at the time, and stayed only for the company. His three cousins, on the other hand, had gladly partaken of the booze and the four had finished the entire three bottles with video games and junk food.

The next morning, however, in the sobering and glaring light of day, Atemu had deeply regretted the decision and vomited all over the carpet, his stomach sloshing and his head aching. Yuusei had been there with a glass of water, headache medication, and a disapproving frown. Yet he had said nothing and merely patted Atemu's back, thinking his hangover punishment enough. Atemu's only silver lining was that his cousins had been no better off than he. It had been almost a year after that that Yuusei had left to find himself, leaving Atemu alone. Though, compared to Atemu's present dilemma, that past hangover had been nothing but a lazy afternoon in the park.

Whimpering, Atemu attempted to raise his head, only to be hit by a violent wave of nausea and vertigo. Instantly, he struggled to his feet, his skin tingling all over as goosebumps ripped over his flesh like wildfire. He blindly launched himself in the direction of the bathroom, hands outstretched and slamming into the doorjambs, his fingers gripping the edges. He shoved inside the tiny room, only barely making it in time to fall against the toilet and spew black, rank glops of petroleum-looking chunks into the porcelain bowl. At the same time, his bowels protested with an angry clench and Atemu recalled the person who had done this to him.

 _I'm gonna kill that goddamn witch!_ Atemu thought, enraged at being tricked in such a cruel way as his body forcibly convulsed. _I'll rip him limb from limb!_ He continued to think such angry thoughts as he emptied his body of whatever crap Yuugi had given him, all the while missing the very valid fact that his stuffed nose was nonexistent and his cough was gone. In fact, as soon as he came out of the shower a half hour later, Atemu felt better than he had in the past month and a half. The only problem was the fragile feeling of his body. Though cured, Atemu still felt achy and weak.

 _Is this what it's like to be human?_ he thought derisively as he grabbed a towel, _Feeling this fragile?_

“Damn,” he said as he looked into the foggy mirror, breathing freely for the first time in a month. He coughed then, covering his mouth and nose. There was still a leftover whiff of what he could only describe as _death_ , and he flipped on the overhead fan to dispel the stench. “That crap tea actually worked.” He began to dry himself off, annoyed with the bone-deep ache in his body that hindered his full range of motion. It was then that Atemu realized that Yuugi was no hack, but the real deal, and Atemu had been glaringly rude to what was an apparently powerful witch.

He groaned.

 _Well, shit,_ Atemu thought, _I guess I owe him an apology._

* * *

Biting his lip, Atemu hesitated at the door to Yuugi's shop. Unlike his previous visit, he did not smell terrible and his clothes, though rumpled from lying in a pile on the floor, were clean. His hair was even less of a mess than before. He had bothered to actually brush it. Clearing his throat, Atemu took a breath and pulled the door open, the tinkling bell from before greeting him again.

Tucking his hands into the pocket of his white hoodie, Atemu glanced at the register, saw no one behind it, and called out.

“'Lo?”

“In the back!” called the now familiar voice of the teenaged worker, Juudai.

Squaring his shoulders, Atemu listened for heartbeats, counting three within close range. He headed for the back wall, passing through it with a shudder as the cold tore through him. He really detested that barrier. Shaking it off, he noticed the halfbreed, Juudai, at the counter. Much to Atemu's amusement, he was brewing a potion. There was a small cauldron sitting on a stand over a flame before him, covered clay pots scattered over the wood around it. Whatever was cooking, Atemu thought it smelled delightful, like evergreens and a tinge of frost. Though when Atemu took a second breath, he frowned when he smelled the ocean and hot arid sand. A third breath brought the scent of freshly-baked bread and a wood-burning fire.

 _Did that damn tea screw up my nose?_ Atemu wondered, decidedly confused by the myriad of conflicting scents pouring forth from the cauldron. But before he could further wonder at the smells, he noticed _her._ Beside the employee was the woman from the day before. Atemu's eyes narrowed on her, and she looked up, startled. Her blue eyes settled on him and Atemu’s skin began to prickle uncomfortably. He had not noticed the day before, but as he gazed at her, Atemu felt the whole of him tense. There was something _wrong_ about the woman. It made his skin itch and his fangs poke through his gums. His jaw clenched and he glared at her. Something inside him felt deeply unsettled and unsafe. Atemu did not want to be anywhere near her. He did not know what had changed from the day before and he did not care. All he knew was that he would _not_ go near that woman. Underneath his volatile gaze, she shifted uncomfortably.

“I should be going,” she said, making her way out from behind the counter. Atemu wandered over to the shelves, pretending to be interested in a jar of _actual_ newt eyes. He grimaced at it. “Give Yuugi my goodbyes.”

“Sure, Anzu,” Juudai said, taking up a clay pot and adding a few drops of a clear, rose-colored liquid into the cauldron. The odor changed again, wafting over with the smell of roses and honey. The woman leaned in close, glancing around to where Atemu was still pretending to browse before she spoke.

“Juudai,” Anzu whispered.

“Yep?” Juudai said distractedly, taking a ladle.

“Be careful,” she said, and Juudai snickered.

“It's just a love potion,” Juudai said, dropping the ladle in and gently stirring. Atemu eyed them out of the corner of his eye. He would wait for this Anzu person to leave.

“He _smells_ of death,” she said then, and Atemu took pause as he shifted his attention to another shelf. It was littered with seashells of all sizes and he lifted a seashell from the pile, scowling at it. It was more than obvious that this woman had no idea he could hear her.

 _I showered,_ he thought irately.

“What?” Juudai said, and Atemu looked away as he glanced over. There was a loud sniff then, and Atemu felt his shoulders tense indignantly. “Nah, I'd say he smells like coconut.”

“Just be careful,” Anzu said, taking a small purse and a brown paper bag from the counter. “Death clings to him.”

Atemu stared down at the seashell in his hand, a foreboding prickle at the nape of his neck. Her words did not sound at all comforting. In fact, Atemu was starting to doubt she was referring to his body odor. He recalled the witch's words from the day before. The curse had meant to kill him. Preoccupied, Atemu gazed down at the large ivory-colored conch in his hand and frowned.

 _I suddenly feel like I have a bull's eye on my back,_ he thought.

“Tell Yuugi thank you for the tonic,” she said then, her voice returning to its normal volume, and she began to walk away. She paused abruptly after a couple of feet, turning around to sigh. “And tell Sugoroku to stop mailing curses to me,” she said with a tinge of annoyance. “He can't curse my talents away as much as he tries.”

Juudai laughed, and she departed, Atemu glaring as she passed him. She looked at him with a clenched jaw and tense eyes, and he grimaced. It was only after she went through the wall that Atemu realized she had been gazing at him with fear.

Huffing to himself, Atemu put down the seashell and started for the counter. Juudai was still working on his potion, his brow creased in concentration and his hand steadily stirring the simmering liquid. It was a peculiar sight and Atemu snorted in amusement as he approached, clearing his throat. Cauldrons and potions were very “storybook witch”, and he could very well imagine Juudai and his boss cackling over a brew. He turned at the sound of the opening door, listening as the woman exited the front of the shop. His scowl returned.

“What's _her_ deal?” he asked, and Juudai hummed thoughtfully.

“Welcome back,” he said absently, “and uh, Anzu and Sugoroku can't stand each other.” He had completely missed Atemu's annoyed tone. Sighing, Atemu brushed his thoughts of the woman aside.

“Is it normal to leave the front unattended?” he asked, something that had been bothering him since the day before.

“Yep,” Juudai said brightly, not bothering to look up. “The door locks itself if somebody tries to take anything without paying.”

“Neat trick,” Atemu commented. “Why didn't it lock me in yesterday when I left with the tea?”

“Permission spell,” Juudai answered obviously, and Atemu's nose wrinkled as he huffed.

“Your boss around?” Atemu asked dryly.

“One second,” Juudai replied, keeping his attention on the potion, “this requires a steady – ah, dammit!” The potion, which had been a pretty rose color, suddenly turned brown and murky, the scent of it devolving into something sickly sweet. The pungent smell seared through Atemu's olfactory system and he immediately covered his nose when the forefront of his head throbbed with a sudden headache. In front of him, Juudai sighed, his expression slightly pained. “That's always unpleasant,” he said aloud, abandoning the ladle to sink in the cauldron. He quickly turned off the fire underneath with a fan of his hand and a muttered word before grabbing a lid and slamming it on top.

Atemu was more than grateful for that single action.

“Nasty, ain't it?” Juudai said. “Love gone sour.” Turning his eyes to Atemu, Juudai shrugged and rubbed at his nose. “I may be gifted with Cupid's Sight, but I'm shit at love potions,” he said with a sigh. “Well, it's not exactly a love potion, but like the potential for it. Yuugi calls it an _inclination._ You can't make someone love you. You can create obsession and infatuation, but that's not love. Those blind the person – not literally though. Well, maybe sometimes – depends on the potion. Anyway, Yuugi's been trying to teach me, but I'm not getting anywhere with it.” He paused, gazing at Atemu closely and his nostrils flared imperceptibly. “You look better. Smell better too,” he said with a smile. “Tea worked then? Not that I doubted it would, but I seriously thought you wouldn't take it.” He groaned. “Even bet Yuugi five bucks. Damn,” he said, “I guess I owe him five bucks now. You know, I'm glad you took it, but, dude, I'm not made of money –”

“Speaking of your boss,” Atemu interrupted, eager to distance himself from the horrid sweet stink and hoping that he would take the hint, “where is he?”

“Oh,” Juudai said, looking slightly put out, “he's downstairs, hold on.” Then Juudai crouched behind the counter and out of sight. Curious, Atemu peered over to see Juudai opening a trap door, revealing steep wooden steps.

“Bro!” Juudai called down, “He's back and I owe you five bucks!” Quickly following his statement, the sounds of a crash and shattering glass reached Atemu's ears. A slew of yelps followed before Yuugi answered.

“Be a sec!” Yuugi called hastily, and Atemu could hear his heartbeat quicken from where he stood.

“'Kay!” Juudai called back. “Also, Anzu says thanks for the tonic.”

Juudai straightened then, nodding to Atemu.

“He's on his way,” he said needlessly, and Atemu nodded, glancing around the shop.

He noticed a few things he had previously missed for his bad mood. There were plants scattered about the store, all different, some with colorful flowers, others with thorns, one was only vines that were slowly taking over a shelf. They did not appear to be for sale, but purely for decoration.

“Like the plants?” Juudai guessed, “It's my only non-magical talent. Green thumb. I can make anything grow. It's funny because Yuugi's the one who's supposed to have that affinity for plants, but he has trouble using his magic with them. They reject it – I think it's the witch in him interfering with his natural fae –”

“Fae?” Atemu said, dropping his hand from his nose in confusion, and Juudai seemed to realize he had been babbling, closing his mouth abruptly. He fidgeted and shrugged, eyes quickly avoiding Atemu's as his heartbeat skyrocketed into the stratosphere.

“Did I say fae?” was Juudai's nervous reply. “Meant um, well...” He struggled for a lie before he finally sighed and gave up with a grimace. “He's half like me,” he said reluctantly, “but _please_ don't tell anyone.” Brow creasing, Juudai pressed his palms together in prayer. “Pretty please.” He waited for Atemu to confirm that he would not breathe a word, but Atemu's silence and the way his nose crinkled the slightest bit told him much more. Juudai tilted his head to the side. “You don't like halfbreeds, do you?”

“I didn't say that,” Atemu said quietly.

“You don't have to,” came Yuugi's voice as his head emerged from the opening in the floor. He stepped up and out, brushing what looked like dirt from his purple locks. Atemu caught the distinct scent of lavender, eyebrows twitching up when the scent gradually pushed the miasma of failed potion from his sinuses. However, when he looked around, he did not see any sign of the gracious plant. Looking back to Yuugi, Atemu took him in. Today, Yuugi wore a tight long-sleeved black shirt with equally tight, blue jeans. The spiked collar had been exchanged for a studded one, but the eyeliner was the same. Yuugi cleared his throat, leaning down to close the trapdoor. When he stood, he smiled at Atemu with a wry curve to his lips.

“I owe you an apology,” Yuugi said, and Atemu frowned at him, bewildered.

“Wait, what?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“I was out of line with what I said about your money,” Yuugi said regretfully, “I'm sorry. I was hurt and resentful and I shouldn't have been so rude –”

“You're kidding me, right?” Atemu blurted out, and Yuugi blinked at him, stunned.

“No,” he said uncertainly, shifting uncomfortably, “regardless of how rude _you_ were, I shouldn't have said what I did and kicked you out like that. So...” Trailing off, Yuugi reached under the counter and pulled a medium-sized paper bag from underneath. “I made you this,” he said and a small blush filled his cheeks. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I also kind of neglected to tell you certain things about the tea –”

“Like the fact that it was going to taste like I was drinking straight from a lake of fire?” Atemu supplied helpfully, and Yuugi's blush spread to his ears. “Or maybe,” Atemu said, “neglecting to tell me that I was going to wake up and expel my organs out of more than one orifice?” He nodded as Yuugi looked to the counter in embarrassment. “Yeah,” he said, “that was sure a surprise.”

“Sorry,” Yuugi mumbled.

“But,” Atemu said, and Yuugi looked up with interest, his blush receding, “it worked. So I came to apologize for being an ass.” With that, Atemu extended a hand to Yuugi, waiting for him to take it. But to his utmost surprise, Yuugi blushed to the roots of his blonde bangs, the mottled red spreading over the bridge of his nose. The air turned awkward then and the pleasant scent of lavender seemed to increase like someone had sprayed an aerosol can in the vicinity. Atemu blinked in confusion until Yuugi quickly took his hand, shaking it with a jerky motion. It was then that Atemu realized that he made Yuugi nervous.

“Don't worry,” Atemu said with a slight sigh, “I'm not going to eat you or anything.” He shrugged sheepishly, attributing Yuugi's nerves to the fact that he was a werewolf who had shown explicit dislike for witches. “I just wanted to give credit where credit was due … even if you _are_ a witch.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, slowly becoming aware of Juudai's sly grin glinting brightly at him. Juudai was gazing at the pair of them, chin in hand as he leaned on the counter, looking absolutely delighted. It unnerved Atemu to be stared at in such a way.

“I gotta go now,” Atemu said, his discomfort and instinct to flee rising, “again, thanks, Yuugi.” With that, Atemu turned and walked away, the hairs at the back of his neck rising with the wary feeling of being watched. He noted the plant of vines as he left, surprised to see star-shaped flowers decorating it in bunches along the vine that had _definitely_ not been there before. A giggle sounded behind him and Atemu distinctly heard Yuugi elbow Juudai as the eyes on his back became more pronounced. The feeling stayed with him until he left the shop, and only then did he finally relax. With his deed done, Atemu made his way home, content with knowing that he did not owe the witch a thing.

* * *

Entering his home from the side door, Atemu pulled off his hoodie in the kitchen, his body sore. He tossed it onto the sofa in the living room without looking, feeling exhausted after his trek to town and back. His very bones hurt and his body was ready to simply collapse upon the closest available surface, in desperate need of some good rest.

“Rude,” groused Yuusei's familiar voice, and Atemu sighed as he walked over, looking down in disapproval at Yuusei who was lying, sleep-ruffled and annoyed, or as annoyed as Yuusei ever looked with his static expression of _nothing._ Atemu had long since learned to tell Yuusei's moods apart, and while Yuusei mostly oscillated from indifferent to interested without a change of expression, he was currently exhausted. Ever since he had moved out there, it was not unusual to see Yuusei sleeping somewhere in his home. Heck, in the two months alone, Atemu had been mentally scarred by Yuusei showing up naked more times than he could count on one hand. Back home, Yuusei had never really changed his form aside from when they played away from prying eyes, most likely because Atemu's father had thoroughly disapproved. However, things seemed to have changed, as Yuusei did not hesitate to change his form when he wanted. Atemu had quickly grown used to it and had made a habit of leaving bathrobes all over the house for his shapeshifter brother.

Thankfully, Yuusei was clothed this time, wearing a pine-green sweater and charcoal-black jeans. But seeing him so soon after he had been magically cured was not something Atemu had expected.

“What are you doing?” Atemu asked.

“Sleeping,” Yuusei replied, closing his eyes.

“Why?” Atemu said.

“Jack won't let me sleep,” Yuusei muttered before turning onto his side and covering his head with Atemu's hooded sweater. He stilled then before brushing off the cloth and staring up at Atemu, his blue eyes snaking over him with suspicion. “Weren't you dying?” he asked as he sat up, confused. “What happened to your flu?”

“Got better,” Atemu answered shortly, unwilling to admit that he had gone to a witch for help. “What's Jack doing?”

Even with the obvious subject avoidance, Yuusei sighed and answered his question.

“Says he's starting a band with some friends,” Yuusei said, “and I don't have the heart to tell him he's tone-deaf.” He grimaced. “I wouldn't care if only he didn't try breaking the sound barrier at four in the morning. Pretty sure our neighbors hate us. I've apologized, but still.” With that, Yuusei collapsed back onto the sofa, closing his eyes and pulling Atemu's hoodie over his body.

Grimacing, Atemu wandered back into his kitchen, readying his coffeemaker for a brew. Upon spotting the used grounds in the basket, Atemu rolled his eyes and called out to Yuusei.

“Clean up the coffeemaker after you use it,” he said, vexed, “it'll get all gross and moldy if you don't.” An unintelligible groan was his answer, and Atemu sighed as he threw out the old grounds and washed the basket. “Want coffee?” he called. Another groan was his reply and Atemu took it as an affirmative. Once he had set the coffeemaker, an unusual sound made him still. He listened intently, ears straining. He could hear creaking branches, the crunch of dead leaves, and the thump of footsteps on the hard, cold earth.

Whipping around, Atemu scowled before concentrating and summoning out his claws, wary. It was not long before he heard the sound of a steady heartbeat growing close. Moving to the kitchen door, Atemu peered out through a gap in the curtain, keeping himself out of sight. The sound of the heartbeat was right outside his home. He blinked when he saw who it was, astounded. Retracting his claws, Atemu relaxed his shoulder against the door, watching with curiosity as the person began to pace outside and the heartbeat grew faster, panicked.

Slightly amused, Atemu examined that creased brow, those fidgeting hands, pearly white teeth chewing nervously on a plump bottom lip. Atemu noted all of these things and more before he finally sighed and opened the door.

“Yuugi.”

With a frightened jump, Yuugi stopped dead in his tracks, looking to Atemu with wide, violet eyes and parted lips. He was frozen for a long moment before abruptly chuckling.

“I completely forgot,” Yuugi said, embarrassed, “werewolf hearing. I live with one – I should know better.” He laughed awkwardly, shifting the brown bag in his gloved hands, the paper crinkling. He shivered, and Atemu saw that Yuugi was only wearing a thin, wine-purple jacket and a long ivory-colored scarf.

“He's not full-blooded,” Atemu replied, “I didn't think halfbreeds had the same traits.” It was obvious by Yuugi's disappointed frown and clenched jaw that it had been the wrong thing to say. Biting his tongue, Atemu cleared his throat uncomfortably before glancing to the bag Yuugi held in his hands. Not wanting to insult the witch even more, Atemu opened the door wider.

“Come in,” he said.

“Is,” Yuugi started, appearing unsure, “is that okay?”

In answer, Atemu moved aside, motioning into his home, and Yuugi seemed to deflate with relief.

“Uh, thanks,” Yuugi said hesitantly, shifting on his feet for a second before moving forward with small steps until he reached Atemu's side.

Again, Atemu caught the scent of lavender and something that smelled suspiciously like the earth after it rained. It took Atemu a moment to realize that it was Yuugi that had brought the odor into his home and he huffed abruptly, trying to rid his nose of the smell. It was only when Atemu closed the door behind him that he recalled Yuusei's presence within the house. Cursing quietly, Atemu hoped Yuusei had fallen asleep and would remain so for as long as Yuugi was in his home. He still had no desire to admit that he had succumbed to seeking out a witch for a cure, especially when he had so adamantly refused.

“Oh, you have a cat?” Yuugi said from behind him, and Atemu whipped around. There was a black cat with golden stripes running down its back and vibrant blue eyes perched on the kitchen island, purring with an impossibly smug look on its face. Eyes wide, Atemu watched Yuugi approach the cat. He set down the bag on the marble counter of the island and lifted the feline into his arms, petting it with a smile. “Funny,” Yuugi said as the cat purred, “I thought you'd be more of a dog person.” He laughed, turning to see Atemu's severe lack of humor before falling abruptly silent and grimacing to himself. “Sorry,” he said, “I make bad jokes when I'm nervous.” Looking away from him, Yuugi petted the cat happily. “What's its name?”

“His name is Yuusei,” Atemu replied with an irked twist to his lips. He was about to tell Yuugi to set Yuusei outside in the cold as petty revenge when Yuugi suddenly lifted the cat to eye level, violet eyes narrowed.

“You,” Yuugi said, “are not a cat.” He stared at Yuusei quizzically, as though trying to discern exactly what he was. “Werecat?” Yuugi murmured, “Mm, no. You're a shapeshifter, aren't you, Yuusei?”

Astonished, Atemu stared at Yuugi, begrudgingly impressed with him. Even he, with his supernatural senses, had been unable to tell what Yuusei was upon first meeting him. But here was Yuugi, ripping apart the mystery within seconds. Annoyed, Atemu huffed in irritation before walking over to the kitchen and opening a cupboard, where he pulled two mugs.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Sure,” Yuugi responded before setting Yuusei back onto the counter. Yuusei meowed in protest, and Yuugi cast him an amused look. “Sorry, little guy.” He grabbed the bag he had brought, clearing his throat as he made his way closer. “Um, you forgot this,” he said to Atemu, “so I came to give it to you –”

“How did you even know where I live?” Atemu interrupted, turning his suspicious gaze upon Yuugi, “I don't recall giving out that information.” He stopped short when he remembered the fact that Yuugi could read minds, suddenly paranoid about whatever he could have learned, and Yuugi sighed.

“I didn't steal your address from your head,” Yuugi said tiredly, “I can only hear your immediate thoughts. Anything deeper, your memories or things in your subconscious require a lot of concentration and potions at times. I'm not _omniscient.”_

“So how did you find me?” Atemu asked, scowling.

“Um,” Yuugi laughed, embarrassed, before softly mumbling, “I kind of had Juudai track you to the forest and I went on from there by following the road. I kind of got lost because it's not exactly paved and obviously hasn't been used in a long time – that's why I ended up on the wrong side of the house.”

Silent, Atemu stared at Yuugi before turning his attention to serving the coffee. He set a mug down before Yuugi, placing the container of sugar beside it. He said nothing and thought nothing as he went to the fridge and pulled the milk jug from within. Quietly, he set it on the counter next to the sugar, and Yuugi stood in the kitchen, looking more than uncomfortable by his silence. Visibly discouraged, Yuugi cleared his throat and opened the bag.

“You probably still feel pretty terrible,” Yuugi said, “that'll last for a while, so I made you a special tea to help you regain your strength. They cause drowsiness, so taking them before bed might be best. Also, don't operate heavy machinery.” He chuckled stiffly as he produced three bundles, similar to the one that had cured him, and set them on the counter. After, he pulled what seemed to be a silver necklace from the bag. At the end of it, hung a glassy, black stone. It was rounded and flat. Etched onto the surface was Atemu's name.

“It's an amulet,” Yuugi said, “it'll protect you from any similar curses, but it can't stop direct assaults of black magic.” He hesitated when Atemu stepped back.

“Silver?” Atemu questioned, and Yuugi nodded.

“It won't hurt you,” Yuugi said quickly, “it –”

“It's _silver,”_ Atemu snapped.

“It's safe,” Yuugi said, “trust me.”

At his words, Atemu's eyes narrowed.

“How?” he asked, confused.

“It's designed to protect the wearer,” Yuugi said, “but I have to warn you that it will hurt any other folk. Just don't let anyone with a silver allergy – or really any magical person shouldn't touch it.”

Extending his hand, Atemu took the silver, expecting to be burned by it. However, upon touching it, Atemu felt nothing but the cold chain. Astonished, he took the chain from Yuugi and held it within both his hands, marveling at the feel of it.

“How is this possible?” he asked. “This … shouldn't be possible.”

Frowning, Atemu ran the chain around his fingers, unwilling to believe what he was seeing and feeling.

“The way the silver is forged is what makes the difference between a weapon and what you hold,” Yuugi said simply. “It'll never hurt you.”

“Why?” was Atemu's breathless question. He lifted his eyes to Yuugi, searching him for answers. “You don't even know me.”

“Well, no,” Yuugi said, avoiding Atemu's gaze. His voice lowered to a mumble and he sighed. “But you're new here and I just, um...” He trailed off into an embarrassed silence, and Atemu raised an eyebrow at Yuugi before examining the chain once more. He had never seen anything like it. It had to be powerful magic indeed, and Atemu did not trust it one bit.

“Are you trying to indebt me?” Atemu asked abruptly. “Garner favor with a werewolf? Maybe you need potion ingredients or protection – what will this cost me?”

“What?” Yuugi gasped lifting his head. “No! That's not it at all!” He frowned and his hands clenched into fists, crumpling the paper bag in his gloved hand. “I was just trying to do something nice for you!”

“By making a powerful amulet that probably cost you more than a little trouble?” Atemu said, hand clenching around the chain. He listened to Yuugi's heartbeat, trying to catch him on a lie.

“Look,” Yuugi said, trying to return the conversation to something calmer, “I'll admit that forging the silver wasn't easy, but –”

“But what?” Atemu prodded.

“That doesn't mean I'm trying to bribe you or trying to get something from you!” Yuugi cried, incredulous, his heartbeat fast but steady, “I just tried to do something nice!”

“'Something nice',” Atemu echoed, frowning. He stubbornly ignored that Yuugi was not lying. To Atemu, it was as plain as the nose on his face. Yuugi was a witch, and for all Atemu knew, he had used a spell to cloak his heart from telltale skips. He said, “No one does anything unless they have something to gain.”

“Atemu, not everyone is out to hurt you,” Yuugi protested, and Atemu felt the feral part within him flare.

“Don't,” Atemu snapped, slamming his fist against the counter. Yuugi jumped, startled as he stared down at Atemu's hand with wide eyes. Atemu looked as well, noting that he had accidentally summoned his claws. Annoyed, he flexed his jaw, grinding his teeth at the discomfort in his mouth where his fangs were itching to come out. Retracting his claws, he attempted to calm himself, taking even breaths. Yet Yuugi stepped back, and Atemu could hear as his heart began to pound. Standing before Atemu, he fell silent, a brief flicker of fear crossing his features before Yuugi forced it away. He looked away from Atemu then, his gaze settling into something vaguely defeated. It was this look that calmed Atemu enough to speak.

“I don't need your trinkets or your potions,” Atemu said quietly. “I'm sorry you wasted your time here. You may go.”

It was then that Atemu took Yuugi's hand, surprising him. Yuugi jumped, his eyes wide as Atemu placed the amulet within his palm. For a moment, he thought he felt Yuugi flinch, but he removed his hand and did not give it a second thought.

“Alright,” Yuugi said heavily as he put away the amulet and the bundles of tea, “I get it, you don't trust me –”

“I don't trust _any_ witch,” Atemu said with a tone of finality, “that's it. It's nothing personal.” He then walked over to the door and opened it, waiting as Yuugi stepped over his threshold. He thought he smelled bitter disappointment, but he ignored that too as Yuugi paused, turning to him with bright eyes.

“Isn't it funny how we'll say it's not personal,” Yuugi said idly, “but in the end … it always is?” Atemu stared at him, contemplating his words, but did not reply. “Now, I don't know what witches have done to you to make you so distrustful,” Yuugi said, “but we're not all the same.” He made to turn, but hesitated, biting his lip. “You know,” he said, “I actually thought you'd magically changed your mind about me because – well, it doesn't matter, I guess.” He shrugged helplessly. “I just thought we could be friends and made you this, so yeah” – he looked Atemu in the eye and nodded – “I guess I did want something in return, but it wasn't anything like you thought.” He turned to go then. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled and stepped out into the cold.

Yuugi did not turn back again like Atemu had expected. He did not even hesitate. Instead, he slowly trudged away through dead leaves, his shoulders low with defeat, leaving nothing but silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like Atemu has some trouble making friends. Maybe if he chilled to about -30°C he'd have better luck.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoying this supernatural fic? Want more werewolves in your life? Be sure to check out my other werewolf one shot if you haven't already: [The Things You Couldn't Say](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8338237).
> 
> And if you like Ancient Egypt AUs without problematic slave/master dynamics, check out [Aahmes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8534260)! ♡


	4. Atemu VS The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuusei suddenly turns against him and Atemu doesn't understand why … until he does. Meanwhile, Yuugi is worrying Juudai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to an all-new chapter! Sorry for the wait. I update each story in turn when I'm able and I have no working pc, so this is all done by phone. Enjoy the chapter. ♡

“That was really shitty,” Yuusei said from behind him.

Tearing his gaze from the spot where Yuugi had vanished beyond the trees, Atemu shut the door and turned to see Yuusei standing on the other side of the kitchen island, pulling on a shirt. “He seemed nice,” Yuusei said, “powerful too. I could smell his magic, almost like catnip.” Yuusei took Yuugi's untouched mug and sipped. “He also seemed to actually like you,” Yuusei said, “wonder how that happened since you were nothing but an asshole.”

“Fuck off, Yuusei,” Atemu said tiredly, “go catch some mice or something.” He went back to his own coffee, the urge to sit and rest his legs growing. He did not want to admit that he had been wrong in turning away Yuugi's tea. But Atemu could not let himself be taken in by a witch. It would spell disaster for him, of that he was sure. “My father,” Atemu said, “he must have had good reasons.”

 _He couldn't have hated witches for nothing,_ Atemu thought.

Silent, Yuusei stared at him before returning his attention to his coffee, visibly withdrawing himself from the conversation, but Atemu turned to him with gritted teeth.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” Atemu grounded out, “your silence is infuriating.”

“Just so you know,” Yuusei said slowly, “this whole 'my daddy knows best' thing is bullshit.” He saw Atemu's expression twist, but he did not wait for him to speak and barreled on. “Your dad was a prejudiced asshole that hated anything that wasn't werewolf and he hated halfbreeds even more.” Atemu glared at Yuusei, hands clenching on the counter. But Yuusei did not stop there. “Stop trying to be your dad,” he said, “and draw your own conclusions about the people around you instead of clinging to shitty values.”

Yuusei set down the mug in his hand on the table, sighing.

“You were better than this,” Yuusei said, his brow creased, “after your parents died and you moved here, you've been trying to act like your dad –”

“And that's a _problem?”_ Atemu snapped. “The pack loved my father!”

“You've picked up his habits,” Yuusei said, “you stick your nose up at everyone, including me.” He saw Atemu's skepticism and Yuusei's jaw clenched imperceptibly. “The day you arrived, you treated Jack like he was garbage. You're condescending and you talk like you don't care who's listening,” he said. “It's really rude. Yeah, your dad may have been the pack leader everyone loved – because he was a great leader” – Yuusei shook his head – “but his personal opinions were shit and you've adopted them all.

“You used to be so accepting and open-minded,” Yuusei continued, and he saw when Atemu looked to the ground, eyes hard, “you didn't judge people on first impressions. By adopting his creed, you might feel like you're trying to make up for the fights you had with him, but despite your differences, your father still loved you.” He moved out from behind the island counter and headed for the door, opening it. “Call me when you stop being an asshole and start being my best friend again.” Before Atemu could process his words, Yuusei was out the door and transforming into a German Shepard. He shed his clothes, wriggling out of them with ease before darting off into the afternoon.

Peeved, as the clothes were his, Atemu walked out and collected them, groaning at the pile of human hair stuck to the clothes like a final fuck you. With a heavy sigh and a grimace, Atemu shook off the dirt and hair clinging to the cloth. He stayed outside longer than necessary, staring out into the direction Yuusei had gone and listening to his fading heartbeat.

“Dick,” Atemu growled once he could no longer hear him and headed back inside. “The hell do you know?” He tossed the clothes onto the sofa in the living room before he spotted the cat hair on the kitchen floor by the island. “You've _got_ to be kidding me,” Atemu huffed as he walked over to the sink and opened the cupboard underneath it. He pulled the dustpan and brush from within before sighing and making his way to the hair. This was the one thing that truly annoyed Atemu – the hair and other dead cells, like nails, that Yuusei shed when he changed form. They were a nuisance to clean up, especially in his current pathetic state.

Atemu had just finished brushing all the hair and claws into the pan, when he suddenly felt dizzy. Kneeling, Atemu dropped the brush, only barely clinging to the pan as he braced a hand on the wood before him to keep from face-planting into the island.

Taking a deep breath, Atemu felt fatigued, his legs trembling. The exhaustion he felt had doubled, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down. He was winded by the argument, even though he had barely said a word.

 _You don't know anything,_ Atemu thought as he recalled Yuusei's words, _you don't understand._

But the thought came to him that Yuusei _did_ know, and he _did_ understand. Yuusei had been by Atemu's side since Atemu had turned eleven years old. Though his father had highly disapproved of their friendship, Atemu had defied his father and embraced Yuusei as a brother, rather than see him as the dirt under his shoe. They had stuck together through thick and thin and Yuusei had been around to see every one of their arguments, most about Yuusei himself. When one of them messed up, the other was there to help straighten them out.

This seemed to be one of those times.

Gathering his strength, Atemu disposed of the cat hair into the garbage can before he retreated into the living room to collapse onto the sofa with a slight groan. Running a hand through his bushy hair, Atemu sighed. If Yuusei was pissed off at him, he had to be messing up. Yuusei was as calm as they came and the last time he had been angry had been the time Atemu had accidentally eaten the kitten Yuusei had adopted when he turned ten. It had taken three months before he so much as looked at Atemu. He expected a similar reaction this time around.

 _All for a goddamn witch,_ Atemu thought, _Yuusei's pissed for a damn witch._

But Atemu knew, deep down, that it was not just for a witch. Yuusei was angry because of him. Because there had not been a person Yuusei had hated more than he had Atemu's father. The man was a touchy subject for Yuusei, and Atemu groaned, burying his face into his hands as he recalled with gruesome clarity why Yuusei despised his father.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “I'm a self-centered prick. I can't believe I forgot.” He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. “No wonder he's so pissed,” Atemu mumbled, “I'm the worst person ever.”

 

 _Slowly, an eleven-year-old Atemu crept through the_ house. It was just past midnight and it was his birthday. Too excited to sleep, Atemu was wide awake when the unmistakable sound of footsteps reached his ears. With puberty, his werewolf hearing was still developing, but he could now hear his mother's heartbeat from three feet away – if it was really quiet – because Atemu was a curious boy. He constantly checked his growth rates, proud that he could already summon four of his claws on one hand and three on the other. He was developing faster than Set and Seto, his twin cousins, which infuriated Seto, the cranky twin, to no end.

According to his mother, it would be within the next couple of months that he fully shifted. The excitement Atemu felt could not be contained in his eleven-year-old body and often expressed itself by sneaking up on his cousins and tackling them. The twins were already on high alert around him at all times, and had even tried ambushing him on two separate occasions.

Sitting up in his bed, Atemu strained his ears for the footsteps and whispers. He could not make out the words, but there were many different voices. Several people quietly walked the halls of his home. Atemu grinned excitedly, the sudden thought that they were preparing for his birthday party lighting up his face. Quickly, but quietly, Atemu snuck out of bed and through the house, heading towards the voices. He followed them to the top of the stairs, where he could see his parents walking out the door, following his uncle, Akhenaden.

Logically, Atemu followed. He made his way down the stairs and crept to the window where he spied his parents walking down the sidewalk, headed for the old courthouse that was only really used for weddings and funerals. Atemu and his cousins often broke in to play inside, much to their respective parents' annoyance. Frowning, Atemu waited for his parents to make their way inside the building before he left the house and made his way down the street. But as soon as he got to the window that had a broken lock, Atemu was greeted by two identical expressions of surprise.

“What are you doing here?” Atemu whispered.

“Us?” the brown-haired twins replied in unison, “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Spying,” Atemu replied, “duh.”

“Us too,” replied Set with a nod and Seto nudged him, annoyed.

“Be quiet or we'll get caught,” Seto reprimanded.

“My parents didn't even notice me following,” Atemu said proudly. “We won't get caught as long as _you_ don't give us away.”

At his words, Seto's expression only soured.

“What do you think they're doing?” Set asked, and Atemu smiled at him.

“I bet you they're planning my birthday party,” he whispered excitedly.

“Don't be lame, Atemu,” Seto replied, “you're not that important.”

“My dad's the alpha,” Atemu said, “I am _so_ that important.”

“Grow up, Atemu,” Seto replied before he reached up and opened the window. Atemu was immediately there, grabbing the windowsill and pulling himself up. Set helped him push inside before following after. But before Set could help pull Seto inside, Atemu was off.

“Atemu, wait!” Set hissed, but Atemu was gone from the old room and creeping his way down to where the voice of his father rose above the rest. Every footstep he took terrified him. He was sure he would be caught in an instant. His mother and father always seemed to instinctively know when he was up past his bedtime, and Atemu thought this night would be no different. Yet as he walked, he smiled to himself, proud that he was getting better at sneaking around. No one had come to scold him as of yet and he was almost all they way to the basement stairs.

With bated breath, Atemu crept down the steps, his blood rushing in his ears so loudly, that he could not hear the conversation taking place. He walked inch by inch, heart in his throat and hands clammy. Turning, he could see Set and Seto standing at the top of the stairs. They looked pale and horrified, their blue eyes wide and their mouths parted, lips stretched thin over their teeth in silent screams. They motioned for him to come up, waving their arms emphatically, but Atemu shook his head, far too curious. He looked down at the room, noting that every adult he knew had gathered in the cold basement. Atemu shivered, his bare feet making no sound on the stone as he continued stepping down.

The voices were clear as day, arguing heatedly, and it was no wonder then that they had not noticed his presence. They spoke of a man, of wrongs and abominations. Atemu did not understand what all they were discussing, but any hopes of a birthday party were long since shot. However, Atemu's curiosity grew and on he went, making it all the way down to see his parents at the very middle, standing before three sitting figures. One was his cousin, Isis, the second was a man he had never seen before, and the third was a small boy half Atemu's age with scared royal blue eyes and dark, raven-colored hair.

“Did you really think you could slip away without alerting even one of us?” Atemu's father was speaking and Atemu froze at the bottom step as the rest of his family abruptly hushed. Shuddering with fear, Atemu wrapped his fingers around the metal railing, unwilling to go any further. He had never heard his father speak so angrily before. “Not only have you trespassed into our territory, but you tried to steal from us –”

“She is her own person, not _property,”_ the man said, glaring up at Atemu's father as he struggled against the rope around him, “we love each other and there's nothing you can do about it.”

“Nothing?” replied Akhenaden with a snort, “Do you really think I would have let my daughter go anywhere with some gutter trash?”

“She is my wife,” he argued, and Akhenaden snarled, his eyes darkening with anger and his fangs bared.

“Your _wife?”_ he thundered, “she is no such thing –”

“Calm yourself, Akhenaden,” spoke Atemu's father and Akhenaden reluctantly stepped back, his jaw working furiously. His hands flexed with futility at his sides, aching to wrap themselves around the stranger's throat. Turning to Isis, Atemu's father shook his head. “I'm very disappointed in you, Isis,” he said lowly, as if she were the only person in the room, “when you went sneaking off all those times, we thought it late teenage rebellion.” His expression darkened and his mouth flattened into a grim line. “We had not imagined you would betray our pack like this … you leave us with no choice.”

“Please, uncle,” she whispered, “please just hear me out. Give me a chance to explain. He's a good person. He's no threat to our family –”

“The bereaved will exact justice here today,” Atemu's father interrupted. “Any opposed will speak now.” There was a pause of heavy silence as he waited for anyone to speak up. Immediately, Isis lifted her head and gazed at them all in dismayed horror, searching for a saving grace that would not come.

The crowd was mute.

“No one?” she said, and her voice trembled with rage.

“You will not get away with this, Akhenamkhanen,” said the stranger beside her, “you cannot possibly keep us apart –”

“Akhenaden,” Akhenamkhanen said, taking a step back. Beside him, Akhenaden immediately moved forward. “Go ahead.”

And before Atemu could even process his uncle's movements, the man's head was toppling to the ground, painting both his cousin and the boy with red. She screamed in agony and the boy's wide eyes looked to Atemu, but they were blank and unseeing. Atemu must have made a sound of some sort, because the next thing he knew, he was being bundled into his mother's arms, his face hidden in her bosom. _All the while, his cousin's shrieks pierced his ears and a young boy's cries haunted his heart._

 

* * *

Waking from a nightmare of headless bodies and childhood trauma he had long since buried, Atemu sat up, cradling his face into his hands as he panted. He could feel the sweat cooling on his skin, could feel it dripping down his brow. Wiping at the sweat, Atemu sighed, feeling even more exhausted than when he had fallen asleep. Glancing at the window, Atemu saw it was dark. The clock on the mantle above the fireplace read: 12:23, but he was aware of its inaccuracy. It was far slower than a regular clock, and though he did not know the exact time, Atemu had the sneaking suspicion that he had slept through the afternoon to the early hours of the next morning. Lifting a hand, he rubbed at his eyes. His body still ached as though he had been run over. Grudgingly, Atemu admitted that Yuugi had been right about the aftereffects.

Pushing himself off the sofa, a crick in his neck from the uncomfortable position he had passed out in, Atemu stood on shaky legs. He slowly made his way to the kitchen, peering at the microwave to see that it was four in the morning. Sighing, he took a deep breath, startled when a whiff of lavender invaded his senses. Frowning, Atemu concentrated on his sense of smell and realized that Yuugi's magic had permeated his kitchen. Whether on purpose or by accident, Atemu did not know, but he did know he had to apologize yet again.

He had much to fix if he ever hoped to earn Yuusei's forgiveness.

After recalling the memory of the execution, Atemu knew Yuusei was expecting him to make nice with Yuugi before he attempted to talk to him again. The mere thought of befriending a witch, however, did not sit well with Atemu. Whether his father had been prejudiced or not, Atemu knew well enough that witches were bad news and Yuugi was not exempt simply because he had cured Atemu of his curse. Shoulders dropping heavily, Atemu shook his head.

“Goddammit,” he groaned.

* * *

“You should go to bed.”

Looking up from the plant he was pruning, Yuugi sighed, stretching his neck and shoulders with a satisfied, yet tired, sigh. He was in the far side of the basement, where the ceiling was made of glass and the moon shined down softly, surrounded by all manner of plants. They all sat oddly on wooden tables, flowers and branches reaching to the center where Yuugi stood. Looking up at the ceiling where the waxing moon hung in the night sky, Yuugi hummed. With strenuous effort, he and his mother had enchanted the ceiling to be transparent like a one-way mirror so that both the sun and moon could shine upon the plants in the magically spacious basement.

Turning his head, Yuugi spied Juudai standing at the far side of the room, near the stairs with his hand on the banister, a yawn leaving his mouth. At his feet, sat a large cat with a coffee-colored, plush coat, its head reaching above Juudai's knee. It meowed softly and licked its lips before bounding up the stairs and out of sight.

“I'll be up in a bit,” Yuugi murmured quietly, “the plants like me tonight and there's a couple more things I need to do.”

“Yuugi,” Juudai protested, “it's almost five in the morning.” He groaned tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and yawning a second time. “You wake up at nine every day – how do you do it – do you even sleep anymore?”

“Don't worry about me,” Yuugi said, smiling, “I sleep well enough.” He waved Juudai away with a hand. “But you get to bed,” he said, “you're always cranky if you don't sleep well and” – Yuugi frowned, looking at Juudai with curiosity – “what are you even doing awake so late?”

“I fell asleep while I was doing inventory,” Juudai admitted sheepishly and Yuugi granted him a disapproving look. “What?” Juudai said defensively, “I finished it when I woke up!”

“Alright,” Yuugi said, sighing before waving him off again. “get to bed.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Juudai sighed, “fine.” As Yuugi turned back to the yellow daffodils he was pruning, Juudai spoke again. “Why didn't you use gloves?” he asked.

Halting in his work, Yuugi self-consciously pulled his hands away from the bells of the flowers, looking down at his hands with a wistful expression. They were covered in scabs, burned in several places, and blistering along his digits as though he had thrown both his hands into the fireplace.

“You know why,” Yuugi replied softly, “the magic would have burned through –”

“Why even bother at all?” Juudai pressed, “A spell like that – you only work with that kind of magic when it's _really_ necessary and you always require payment first!” Before Yuugi could reply, Juudai barreled on, baffled. “You didn't even ask for a vial of his blood or his fangs –”

“I did it for free,” Yuugi interrupted, turning to look at Juudai who had left his spot at the bottom of the stairs and ventured further into the humid earthy-smelling basement. “I didn't want payment,” Yuugi said so quietly that any other person would not have heard him.

“Are you serious?” Juudai whispered, and Yuugi's shoulders slouched the slightest bit, “Why the hell would you – not because of what I said?” Juudai suddenly paled, looking distraught, “Yuugi, you know it could have been nothing, right?” he asked, “I only saw a flash – the dude's so closed off –”

“I didn't do it because of that,” Yuugi said suddenly, meeting Juudai's gaze before he faltered, “well, I just mean that's not the complete reason – I have my own reasons.”

“Like what?” Juudai asked curiously. “Did you see something in his head?”

“It's not important,” Yuugi said, giving Juudai a disarming smile, “you head on to bed. I'll finish up –”

“Not important?” Juudai breathed, “I really hope you're kidding, Yuugi. You don't just mutilate your hands over a stranger for nothing.” He sighed heavily before rubbing at his eyes.

“But with you,” he said tiredly, “well, I wouldn't put it past you. I'm gonna go to bed. I'm too tired to argue – don't do any other dangerous spells, okay?” He waited for Yuugi's nod before nodding himself. “And at least put some of the goop on 'em,” Juudai said, “it'll heal faster –”

“It's fine like this,” Yuugi said. “I don't like using it.”

“Don't make me sit on you,” Juudai threatened sleepily. “I'll do it.”

“Okay, I'll put some on before bed,” Yuugi sighed, and Juudai smiled in relief.

“Alright, goodnight, bro,” Juudai said with a wave.

“Night,” Yuugi called back.

* * *

After Juudai had gone, Yuugi continued to prune plants, a small satisfied twist to his lips as he saw them shift minutely as he passed, their flowers and stems tilting his way ever so slightly. He collected ingredients from several, pulling on gloves with great reluctance and a lot of wincing when he handled the small hemlock bush. Fifteen minutes later, he walked over to his workbench, setting down the tray with his ingredients. He had begun his usual work of hanging them to dry, when his eyes fell upon the brown, wrinkled bag sitting on the far side of the bench.

Sighing heavily, Yuugi looked to his tray of ingredients, separated by the divisions in the wood, before he moved over to the bag. He pulled off the gloves as he went, flinching when his hands throbbed, and set them down on the table. Opening the bag, he pulled three bundles of tea from it, his heart heavy. Placing them on the work bench, he picked up the bag and turned it over, letting the amulet inside slide out onto the table with a clatter.

Despite knowing it would hurt, Yuugi picked it up, ignoring the sting in his raw fingers. He knew he should have put the gloves back on, but the leather only irritated his wounds more. He gazed at the amulet, turning it over before setting it back down and focusing on his hands instead. He sighed with regret.

Juudai had been right about one thing. Yuugi should not have made the amulet. He had burned his hands for nothing. Atemu wanted nothing to do with it or with him. But before he could even begin to wonder what he would do with the amulet, Yuugi heard the chimes of his flowers, daffodils ringing, whispering the arrival of a magical being.

Frowning to himself, Yuugi turned, making his way to his garden. He looked up through the transparent road, confused. He saw nothing for a moment, just darkness, until he finally noticed a skulking dark shape on his doorstep. Yuugi's mouth parted in disbelief, heart skipping a beat when he recognized the figure hesitating at the door to the shop. Suddenly giddy, Yuugi rushed to the far end of the basement, sprinting up the stairs before his visitor could change their mind and leave. He ran to the wall that hid his true shop before he paused, taking a calming breath to slow his racing heart. Then he walked, calmly, to the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> Be sure to check out my most recent stories: **[Aahmes](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8534260)** and **[Royal Rendezvous Revisited](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9287144),** sequel to **[Impromptu Royal Rendezvous](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3650610)!** ♡ 
> 
> I've also recently updated **[The Aftermath](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3874354)** and **[Misfits In Love](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4161750).** Happy reading!


	5. “Sorry, We're Closed.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's late when Yuugi finds a man more strange than stranger on his doorstep. Instead of turning him away, Yuugi lets him in out of the cold. However, little did this strange man expect to learn more about his past from a person who doesn't know him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola, cuates! Les traigo un capítulo delicioso.
> 
> Hello, friends! I bring you a delicious chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy.

“This is stupid,” Atemu murmured to himself as he stared at the sign on the door that said “Sorry! We're closed.” It was dark and cold, the hooded sweatshirt he wore barely a decent shield from the shiver-inducing chill in the air. “It's almost five in the morning, you _moron,”_ he muttered with a disparaging sigh. “Did you really think they'd be open? Of _course_ it's closed.” Shuddering in the cold, Atemu stuffed his hands into the pouch pocket of his charcoal-grey sweater, turning to leave. He only managed to take a couple of steps when the sound of a door swinging open and a ringing bell caught his attention. Surprised, Atemu smelled him before he saw him. That scent of magic, like lavender flowers, wafted over to him and he closed his eyes briefly to take it in. Turning, Atemu looked upon a shocked, winded Yuugi, and his mind suddenly went blank.

“Atemu?” Yuugi whispered, confused and attempting to catch his breath. His hair was in disarray and his chest heaving as though he had run to the door.

“Yuugi,” Atemu responded in the dark of the entryway, “it's kind of late –”

“It's five in the morning,” Yuugi said, breathless and wide-eyed, “what are you doing here? I thought” – his brow pinched together – “you didn't want anything to do with me.”

“Could we talk inside?” Atemu asked, glancing behind himself at the deserted street. All was silent, nothing out of place. However, despite the lack of immediate danger, Atemu felt uneasy standing there in the open. It did not help that it was also really fucking cold.

“Um, sure,” Yuugi said, shifting to the side to allow Atemu room, “of course.”

He held the door open, a visible tremble to his arm.

As Atemu passed, the familiar smell of anxiety filled his nose and he breathed out in a whoosh to rid himself of the scent with a rapid shake of his head. If Yuugi noticed, he said nothing of it. Atemu waited until Yuugi closed and locked the door to speak, but before he could even think of anything to say, Yuugi was already talking.

“It's pretty cold outside,” Yuugi said conversationally, “want something to warm you up? I was about to make tea.”

“Sure,” Atemu said distractedly, “sounds good.” He followed Yuugi to the back where the real shop was, shifting uncomfortably when he passed the barrier. Contrary to the front where shadows consumed the shelves, the back was alight with warm light. However, as much as he searched for the source, Atemu could not find it. When they reached the counter, Yuugi waved a hand, muttering a word under his breath.

“Come.”

Tensing, Atemu watched as a stool floated over to where they stood. It settled down softly on the floor before Atemu, and he sat when Yuugi motioned to it.

“I'll get the tea,” Yuugi said, rounding the counter, “I won't be long.”

Nodding, Atemu watched Yuugi disappear through the trap door, frowning to himself. He looked around, noting with surprise that the vine plant had sprouted even more flowers, a cluster of white stars along its vines. He strongly suspected that Juudai or Yuugi was working some magic to make it do that so quickly. The scent, however, was sweet and it helped Atemu relax into his stool.

It was not long before a tray with a mismatched tea set appeared before Atemu from behind the counter. It floated down to the surface of the wood as Yuugi came back up through the door, a brown paper bag in hand. When the teapot began to pour out their drinks, however, Atemu could not help but roll his eyes.

 _Showoff,_ he thought as Yuugi set the bag under the counter.

“A bit,” Yuugi replied with a sheepish smile. “Milk and sugar?”

“I can do it myself,” Atemu said, hand reaching for the tongs in the sugar bowl. He started in surprise when it darted out of his range. He looked to Yuugi for an explanation, eyebrow lifting.

“Stop,” Yuugi said quickly, waving a hand at the tea set. A blush suffused his cheeks and the items on the tray stilled, the tongs returning to the bowl. “Sorry,” Yuugi said, his cheeks still burning, “my magic just … took a life of its own.”

“Good to know,” Atemu said, taking the tongs with wariness clear on his face, “I thought witches used Latin for spells?”

To his surprise, Yuugi laughed, a small snort escaping him in the middle. Atemu made no reaction to it, but Yuugi grew flustered then. His blush spread to his ears, deepening to a dark maroon, and he cleared his throat.

“We can use any language we want,” Yuugi began to explain, “the magic is in the words and the intent. The older a language is, the more powerful a spell, so Latin is quite useful when, say, someone is trying to raise the dead. But honestly, any language works as long as you have enough willpower and can wave a hand.”

“What if you don't have hands?” Atemu asked curiously as he took a spoon from the tray and stirred his tea.

“Truth be told,” Yuugi said, “any limb will work as long as you can focus the magic to it.” He shrugged, brushing his hair behind his ear. “But a witch that learns to cast a spell without hands, makes for a powerful adversary, and you should really not make them angry.” He gave Atemu a pointed look at that and Atemu frowned, setting the spoon aside and taking his tea in hand.

In Atemu's opinion, that look was entirely uncalled for. It was not as though he purposely went around, pissing witches off. It just seemed to be a natural talent of his.

“What if a witch can't speak?” Atemu asked as he raised the cup to his lips, hesitating when he noted that Yuugi had yet to touch his own. It was still sitting on the tray, the liquid a juniper green.

“A deaf or mute witch,” Yuugi said, and Atemu looked up, meeting his violet eyes, “has sign language.” He hesitated. “It's a little more difficult, since the words are silent, but it's rather powerful since you're using your hands directly.”

“I see,” Atemu said.

“I've heard it's a lot easier to master silent casting,” Yuugi said, “after learning how to cast with sign language – it's what my mother says … she would know.”

“Huh,” Atemu said with a considerate frown. “Should you really be giving out this information to a complete stranger?” he asked. “Doesn't seem smart.”

However, despite his insult, Yuugi smiled and shrugged.

“I think I can trust you,” he said, and Atemu's frown deepened.

“Again,” Atemu said, pressing the rim of the cup to his lips, “doesn't seem smart.” He finally drank from the cup, belatedly realizing that Yuugi had still not touched his. He froze, but almost instantly, a warmth filled his body and the achy feeling in his bones dissipated the slightest bit. He stared at his cup, eyes wide. “This –”

“It's the tea you rejected,” Yuugi said apologetically, eyes lowered, “sorry.”

“No,” Atemu said, putting down his cup with a sigh, “I'm the one that's sorry.” He met Yuugi's eyes with difficulty, gut churning. “I wasn't always –”

“A dick?” Yuugi guessed.

“I was going for close-minded,” Atemu said with a grimace, “but you're right. I was a dick. It took Yuusei getting after me to remember that. So” – he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin – “I came here to apologize … again.”

“Oh,” Yuugi said, looking pleasantly surprised, “well … I forgive you.” He paused, hesitating, before plowing on. “Does that mean,” he said, a flush filling his cheeks, “you'd like to be friends?”

Eyebrows rising in astonishment, Atemu felt a ironic smile pull at his lips.

“I don't think I'm quite there yet,” he said, brow furrowing at Yuugi's crestfallen expression. “According to Yuusei, I've turned into my father. He wasn't very tolerant of … well, anything.” He sipped more of the tea, sighing. “I'm going to try not to be such an ass anymore,” he said, raising his eyes to Yuugi, “and again, I'm sorry about how I've acted with you and the half – um, your brother.”

“I appreciate the effort,” Yuugi said with a gentle smile, “thanks.” He happily watched as Atemu drank the rest of his tea and served himself again. “Do you like it?”

“Well,” Atemu said, gazing down at the tea he poured, “it doesn't taste like fire, so I can't complain.” He laughed at the grimace on Yuugi's face and shrugged. “Sorry, couldn't help it. This tastes rather good, though, what's in it?”

“That's a secret,” Yuugi said with pride, “can't have you telling other witches how I make my potions or I'll be out of a job.”

“Understood,” Atemu said with a shrug, “though, the only witch I know is you … and that kid brother of yours.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Yuugi said seriously, the line of his lips thinning, “someone _did_ cast a curse on you.”

“Something I haven't forgotten,” Atemu said darkly, “trust me. My body still feels like hell.” He motioned to the tea. “Less so with this.”

“I'm glad that it's helping you,” Yuugi said. He bit at his lip nervously then, avoiding Atemu's gaze. The sweet scent of anxiety came back, and Atemu watched as Yuugi took a breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the amulet from the day before. “Um, maybe,” Yuugi said softly, “you could take this for protection?” He held it out, amulet in the middle of his palm. Atemu barely glanced at it, his eyes on Yuugi's. “Whoever cursed you might not be done.”

“You're right,” Atemu agreed with a sigh. He reached out a hand, taking the necklace. “Do you really want nothing for this?” he asked, before his eyes zeroed in on Yuugi's palm, an angry red mark where the chain had rested. Halting, Atemu registered that Yuugi's hand was covered in blisters and burns. Looking to his other hand, Atemu saw that it was no better off. Eyes wide, he retracted his hand in disgust. “What happened to your hands?”

“Nothing,” Yuugi said, dropping them to his sides, hiding them from view behind the counter, “it's not important.”

“But you're wounded,” Atemu said. He reached across the counter and took Yuugi's wrist without thinking, pulling it up to his eye level. “This was recent.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Yuugi yanked his wrist away.

“It's nothing,” Yuugi said breathlessly, “I'm fine. It's just a reaction to the necklace –” Abruptly, his mouth shut with a click of his teeth and Yuugi looked to the countertop, embarrassed.

“You're allergic to silver?” Atemu said with disbelief, staring at Yuugi as though he could not believe it.

“No, actually, I'm not.” Yuugi mumbled, unwilling to meet his eyes. “It's the magic and it's more like a human allergic reaction.”

“That,” Atemu said, pointing to Yuugi's hands, “is nothing like an allergic reaction.”

“Well,” Yuugi visibly struggled, “usually, it is.”

“Usually?” Atemu asked.

“There was a spell,” Yuugi admitted, “it caused some damage that couldn't be avoided. I'll heal.”

“A spell,” Atemu said before his eyes fell upon the amulet. He raised it and Yuugi stared at it. “It was because of this, wasn't it?”

“N-no,” Yuugi tried to deny, but Atemu scoffed when he heard the telltale skip of a lie in his heartbeat.

“You're lying,” he said, narrowing his eyes on Yuugi's.

“No-no, okay, yeah,” Yuugi sighed in defeat, “sorry.”

“I don't understand,” Atemu said, staring at the amulet, “why would you do this?” But Yuugi was silent, his shoulders hunched. Sighing, Atemu set down both his cup and the necklace. “Yuugi,” he said, “you don't even know me. Why make this? What aren't you telling me?”

“I had a vision,” Yuugi said quietly, “about you.”

“A vision,” Atemu said dubiously, “you did this because of a _vision?”_

“You don't understand,” Yuugi said, jaw clenched, “I don't _get_ visions – divination is not something I excel in – I'm actually really bad at it. Juudai, who's only beginning to discover his magic, is a much better fortune teller than I am.” The breath that escaped Yuugi's lips was like reluctant acceptance and Atemu smelled bitterness in Yuugi's scent. “I've never had a vision before,” he said, “and in order to get them – for _me_ to get them, you need things – herbs, a special candle” – he shook his head, looking up at Atemu with complete seriousness – “but five minutes after you left, I had one. I was in the middle of making you this tea, actually.” Looking down, he nudged his own cup, turning the handle to face out. “It just came to me out of nowhere,” he said, “I didn't even know I was having a vision until Juudai shook me awake –”

“What exactly happened in your vision?” Atemu asked. At the look of reluctance on Yuugi's face, he pressed. “Yuugi, what happened?”

“...You were dying,” Yuugi said softly, his brow puckering in distress.

The shop was deathly quiet. Atemu could not even hear Yuugi breathing. He took up his tea again, skipping the milk and sugar and downing it straight. Setting it down, he served himself again with a chuckle.

“Figures,” he said as he nonchalantly added sugar and milk to his tea, stirring it with the pewter spoon. “So that's why you made this amulet for me?” He sipped at his tea, the warmth spreading through him, giving him the energy he lacked. “You shouldn't have bothered.”

“What?” Yuugi asked uncertainly.

“So how do I kick the bucket?” Atemu asked as he added more milk to his tea. “Werewolves kill me? The thing that cursed me? Maybe” – he laughed – “Yuusei stabs me –”

“Is this funny to you?” Yuugi asked incredulously, “I, a witch who doesn't get visions, has one where you're choking on your own blood and you think it's _funny?”_

“You said it yourself,” Atemu said calmly as he drank from the teacup. He hummed appreciatively before looking to Yuugi with a shrug. “You're not great at divination,” he said, “maybe your vision won't come to pass.”

“And if it does?” Yuugi whispered. “Shouldn't you be trying to figure out what is going to try and kill you?”

“You didn't see what was killing me?” Atemu asked, and Yuugi frowned.

“No,” he said begrudgingly, “I only saw you … lying in the snow.”

“Well, it hasn't snowed yet,” Atemu said lightly, “looks like I have some time.”

“You act like you don't care if you die,” Yuugi said quietly.

 _I don't,_ Atemu thought, and Yuugi's brow creased, the line of his mouth thinning.

“You should care,” Yuugi said firmly.

“Why?” Atemu asked. “Not like there's anyone to mourn me besides Yuusei. My parents are dead, rest of the family disowned me, and Yuusei will get over it.” He shrugged. “Don't get me wrong,” he said, “I'm not suicidal – I just don't see the point in crying over it.”

“I'm sorry about your family,” Yuugi said gently, “but just because you don't think anyone will mourn you –”

“Death is inevitable, Yuugi,” Atemu said, “I'm not looking forward to it, but if I can't avoid it, I'm not going to whine about it. I'm just going to try and take whatever does me in with me.” A wry smirk tilted the edge of his lips. “Assuming your vision even comes to pass.”

Seeing that Atemu would continue to be stubborn, Yuugi sighed. He changed the subject.

“So you'll take the amulet?” Yuugi asked, eyes fleeing to the necklace Atemu had left on the counter.

“After all the trouble you went to?” Atemu said. “I think it would be rude not to.” Taking the necklace, Atemu pulled it on, watching curiously as Yuugi notably relaxed. “But I will ask why you care so much.” Immediately, Atemu heard Yuugi's heart skip a beat before skyrocketing. Confused, he pretended he had not been listening and tucked the amulet down beneath his shirts, shivering at the cold slide of metal on his warmed skin.

“Anyone would do the same,” Yuugi said, avoiding the question.

“That's a load of crap, Yuugi,” Atemu replied with a humored smirk, “no one aside from Yuusei, perhaps, would do this.” He shook his head. “But he's got an excuse – we're brothers.”

“Brothers?” Yuugi said with surprise, “I thought you and he … um.” His words died in his throat, his cheeks slowly turning pink, and Atemu grimaced.

“No thanks,” he said, “Yuusei's great, but really not my type.”

“Oh,” Yuugi said, and Atemu smelled the disappointment. He ignored it.

“So why did you really do it?” Atemu asked.

“I did it because ignoring my vision was not an option,” Yuugi said, “I'm not going to just let you die without trying to help.”

Suddenly, Atemu laughed and shook his head, amused.

“Yuusei was right about you,” Atemu huffed, annoyed, “you're a good person.”

“Disappointed?” Yuugi asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“No,” Atemu said, gazing down at his tea, “I'm glad you're a good guy, I'm just … well, Yuusei tends to rub it in when I'm wrong.” Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “He only does that to me, though – not that I blame him. I'm a bit of an ass as you've seen.”

“I'm sure you have your reasons,” Yuugi said with a half-smile.

“Some,” Atemu said, “but none that can justify my actions.” He looked at Yuugi for a long moment, quiet and considering. Yuugi blushed and looked down at the counter with embarrassment. “My uncle was murdered by witches.”

At once, Yuugi's head snapped up to gape at him in shock.

“What?” Yuugi breathed. “I'm so sorry.”

“I'm not sure of the details,” Atemu continued, “I was fourteen – too young to be included in the pack meetings. My father only told me it was witches that did it.”

“Oh,” Yuugi said, dumbfounded.

“He said they found a hex bag in his home.”

“But,” Yuugi frowned, “hex bags aren't exactly roses – they smell of magic and rot.” He shook his head. “Juudai is only half a werewolf, but he can sniff them out in less than a minute. How did your uncle not know it was there? Was he not a werewolf?”

For a long moment, Atemu was silent. When he spoke, his voice was low and hoarse.

“Say again?” he breathed, lifting his wide eyes to Yuugi.

“Hex bags,” Yuugi said uncomfortably, “smell of magic and rot. It would be nearly impossible to hide the stench from a werewolf.”

Sighing, Atemu leaned back from the counter, his back slumped. He was quiet and still, lips pulled into a grim line.

“My uncle was the best tracker in the pack,” he said. “He could sniff out a trail better than my dad.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I never did see the supposed hex bag … I feel like an idiot.”

“Atemu,” Yuugi said. His hands shifted onto the counter as though he were about to reach out before they clenched and stilled.

“He lied to me,” Atemu said bitterly, “I can't believe he _lied_ to me.”

“Maybe he didn't know –” Yuugi attempted to say before Atemu cut through his excuse.

“My father framed a coven of witches and had them slaughtered,” Atemu growled, his hands clenching on the mug, “there were _children.”_

“Oh, my god,” Yuugi whispered, horror filling his features.

“Still want to be my friend?” Atemu said with cruel derision. His brow was creased and his lips tight. Though his voice spoke with ridicule, Atemu looked anything but amused.

“Did you have anything to do with it?” Yuugi asked, his voice hardly louder than a whisper.

 _I was too young,_ Atemu thought, _but I'm sure I would have helped if I had been old enough._

“I don't think you would have,” Yuugi said softly.

“How would you know?” Atemu asked bitterly. “You don't know _anything_ about me.”

“I know that despite your beliefs about me and my kind,” Yuugi said, “you've come to apologize to me twice.” Slowly, Yuugi reached out, gently placing his hand over Atemu's. “You admitted you were wrong and you were willing to make peace with me.” He smiled hopefully. “That you can do that instead of stubbornly sticking to your father's beliefs, speaks volumes and makes me doubt that you could ever do such a thing.”

“Your blind faith in me is astonishing,” Atemu sighed.

“I've been told I'm quite gullible,” Yuugi said, shrugging.

“I believe it,” Atemu said grimly. “You should be careful about who you trust. There are those who would take advantage. Some that could try to hurt you.”

“I know,” Yuugi said nonchalantly, “I'm well aware of the risks, but I can't change who I am at the drop of a hat. I was raised to help people, to believe in them and have faith –”

“Your parents sound deluded,” Atemu said, “there is a lot of evil in this world that would _gladly_ eat you up.”

“That's pretty cynical of you,” Yuugi replied, “my mom always said that as long as I had hope, things would turn out alright.” In response, Atemu raised an eyebrow at him, but Yuugi only continued to smile.

“You're rather infuriating, aren't you?” Atemu retorted.

“I am,” Yuugi admitted with a nod.

Almost grudgingly, Atemu laughed.

“It's a good thing that I came to make up,” Atemu said as he took a sip of his tea, suddenly noticing that Yuugi had yet to let go of his hand. “I'm sure your blind faith is going to land you in some deep hole that hope isn't going to wish you out of.” He said nothing about the hand on his own, though his eyes swept to it. As unsightly as it was, Atemu was strangely comforted by the weight of it. But Yuugi must have heard his brief thought on the matter because he abruptly pulled his hand away, a faint pink tinge to his cheeks.

“You're going to be the one to rescue me then?” Yuugi said playfully. “How gallant of you.”

“I'm a regular knight in shining armor,” Atemu said sarcastically, raising his teacup to Yuugi, “I'm great at rescuing idiots in distress.”

“You know, I have a tea that can help you with that taste of foot in your mouth,” Yuugi said brightly.

“You have a tea for everything, don't you,” Atemu asked, but it was not a question. Yuugi seemed to realize this and smiled in answer. Atemu stared at him. He had not really looked at Yuugi until now. Atemu had avoided looking too closely at him, but now he took pause. It was a rather pretty smile that Yuugi had. Even with the exhaustion so obviously clinging to Yuugi's face, darkening the area around his violet eyes and his smudged eyeliner, Yuugi did not look half-bad. “You look tired,” he noted.

“Ah,” Yuugi said, embarrassed and chuckling. “Well,” he said, “that's because I haven't gone to sleep yet.” He laughed again, appearing uncomfortable and Atemu soon realized why. Yuugi had not yet gone to bed because of _him._ Knowing this, Atemu quickly finished his tea and stood.

“I should leave,” he said.

“You don't have to,” Yuugi quickly replied, “I mean, I don't mind –”

“I've taken up too much of your time,” Atemu said firmly, leaving no room for argument, “anyway, I'm sure I'll be back since you seem to have a tea for everything.” He laughed, smirking, and Yuugi's cheeks lit up again with a red blush. “I'll see you around, considering I don't get done in by whoever cursed me.” He tried to play it off, make it sound less ominous that it felt, but by the sudden blanch to Yuugi's face, Atemu knew he had not succeeded. “Don't worry,” he said, “I'm a werewolf, I won't die easily.” He shrugged. “Anyway,” he said, “I still have to apologize to Yuusei and I'll die before that happens.”

“Atemu,” Yuugi winced, “that was a bad joke.”

“Yeah,” Atemu said, considerate, “it was, wasn't it.”

“It was terrible,” Yuugi said resolutely, “but hold on a sec.” He reached under the counter and pulled out the brown bag from earlier, adding a thermos a second later, smiling.

“More tea,” he said and Atemu nodded, watching as Yuugi opened the thermos and poured the rest of the tea into it, including the amount in his cup as well. When he finished, he set it down next to the brown bag.

“How much?” Atemu asked, “I intend to pay this time.” When Yuugi looked about to protest, he added, “It's the least I could do.”

“Alright,” Yuugi said as he took out a cellphone with an attached card reader from his pocket. For a moment, it was quiet as Yuugi tapped at the phone. But when he was done, he said, “Not including the tea you just drank – thirty-two dollars and –”

“Include it,” Atemu said and Yuugi looked up, frowning slightly before returning to his phone and tapping some more.

“Forty-eight dollars and seventy-one cents,” Yuugi said, “cash or credit?”

“Debit,” Atemu said as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. He pulled out a debit card and handed it over, watching as Yuugi slid it through the card reader. On the counter, a small machine began to whir as it printed a receipt. Atemu found it off and amusing, a witch using modern means. Taking it, Yuugi handed it over with Atemu's card. He slid a second receipt over with a pen Atemu had not noticed before. As he signed on the dotted line, he could not help but comment on it.

“To be honest,” he said with a laugh, “I half-expected you to ask for my fangs in payment … or something along those lines.”

He waited for a smile and maybe a laugh from Yuugi, but Yuugi did not do either of those things. Instead, he shrugged.

“It depends on the magic a customer asks for,” Yuugi said, “the more advanced, the higher the price.”

“So,” Atemu said, “you really would ask for something like that?”

“I have before,” Yuugi said with an ironic smile.

Unsure of how to respond, Atemu slid the signed receipt over and put his card away, briefly glancing at his copy before pausing and looking at it again with narrowed eyes.

“You didn't charge me for the amulet,” he said, looking up at Yuugi with confusion, “why not?” At the look of discomfort on Yuugi's expression, he suddenly understood.

“That type of spell then?” he asked and sighed when Yuugi nodded. “Should I even bother asking you to charge me?” Yuugi shook his head and Atemu nodded. “What would it have cost?”

“It depends –” Yuugi began hesitantly.

“Yuugi.”

“A vial of blood,” Yuugi said, looking extremely uncomfortable, “or two of your canines with five ounces of fur. Maybe the claws of your dominant hand.” He lowered his gaze, grimacing. “I could go on, but by the look on your face, I think you understand.” He was quiet, brow creased as he anxiously chewed on his lip. Breathing with relief, Atemu cleared his throat.

“Thank you,” Atemu said, “for not asking that of me.”

“I couldn't,” Yuugi said lowly. There was something hidden in his words, a feeling that Atemu wanted to pick apart and explore. But instead of questioning Yuugi, Atemu took the paper bag and thermos, clearing his throat.

“Well, thanks for everything, Yuugi,” he said.

“You're welcome,” Yuugi replied, “I'll walk you out.”

He came out from behind the counter and began making his way to the front door. As he passed the vines with star-shaped flowers, Atemu's eyes widened, watching as several more sprouted in his wake. He moved then, walking after Yuugi with one eye on the vines, amazed by the sight. He turned away once he passed the barrier, heading for the door. Yuugi reached it first, extending a hand and unlocking it.

“Be safe,” Yuugi said, and Atemu distinctly smelled Yuugi's magic. He frowned, but said nothing of it as Yuugi opened the door and the icy wind blew in. Dawn was fast approaching by the slowly lightening grey sky, but the streets were still empty.

Shivering, the two men stood in the doorway, looking out at the silent street until Atemu stepped out, shielding Yuugi from the frosty wind.

“Thanks, again,” he said, holding out a hand for Yuugi to shake. Immediately, Yuugi's cheeks flushed with pink and his violet eyes looked up at him, a small smile pulling at his lips. Yuugi took his hand, shaking it, and Atemu felt the tremble in his fingers.

He attributed it to the cold.

Releasing Yuugi's warm hand, Atemu stepped away and pulled his hood on with one hand. Nodding to Yuugi, he turned and made his way home.

* * *

Sighing, Yuugi watched Atemu go with words frozen to his lips. He deflated, his heart thumping harshly against his ribcage. Closing the door, Yuugi locked up, straining to catch a last glimpse of Atemu, but he was gone.

“Oh, Yuugi,” he sighed, “you're such a fool.” Thumping his head against the glass, he groaned pitifully before making his way back. He needed to clean up before he went to bed.

* * *

When he finally made it to his room, Yuugi stretched his body, hair damp from his rather quick shower. He glanced around for his sleeping clothes and shivered, even in the warmth of his room. As he finally located the sleeping shirt, Yuugi looked to the window before dropping his shirt in numb shock.

Trembling, he rushed about the room, pulling on the clothes he had discarded before his shower. Grabbing a sweater, Yuugi only thought to retrieve the first aid kit from his bathroom, stuffing it into a messenger bag hanging at the top of the banister of the stairs. As he darted down the steps, he summoned his coat from its hook with a practiced wave of his hand. Pulling it on, he raced down the shop, out the front door, and into the falling snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad jokes about a forewarned death are Atemu's forte. (Not.)


	6. Hypothermia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chilling chapter, Yuugi finds himself falling head over heels. And when he finds Atemu, he's abruptly brought down to his knees. Thank goodness Juudai is there to pick up the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Yuugi Mutou!
> 
> Welcome to this gorgeous chapter! Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> ***Warning: Gore**

As Yuugi ran, he panted, breathless and panicked. The air was frosty and his hair was frozen to his head, his body shivering. There was a sharp pain in his chest, but Yuugi did not give the intense discomfort a second thought. Instead, he only continued to pound through the snow. His first and only thought was to get there in time.

 _Let it be a fluke,_ Yuugi prayed, _let it be a lie._

After what seemed like ages, Yuugi made it to the edge of the woods and continued running. The snow was falling harder, quickly coating the ground around him. The winds had picked up as well, lowering his visibility and whipping unforgivingly across his face. Heart racing, and huffing the cold air, Yuugi's body felt numb all over, his chest and side aching with stabbing pains. He was not a runner by any means and Yuugi definitely felt it as he stumbled past trees and attempted to leap over logs he could barely see. He lost count of how many times his foot caught on an uplifted root or hollow in the earth, sending him sprawling for a bite of snow. He did not even know how long he had been running for.

The next time Yuugi tripped and seized a mouthful of frost, he tasted iron and froze. Eyes springing open from when he had abruptly shut them, Yuugi felt his stomach dip and clench. There was blood spattered starkly across the snow below him, soaked in and partially hidden by newer flakes. Spitting out the blood with alarm, Yuugi quickly purged every bit from his mouth and pushed himself up on his hands, his eyes fastened to the crimson slush. He glanced around with apprehension, breath held hostage in his lungs as he searched for danger. The wind was howling through the barren trees, deafening and distracting as it rushed about his head. However, there was nothing out of place and his chest deflated with a momentary respite. Sufficiently calm with no immediate threat, Yuugi finally looked back at the ground, eyes following the trail of blood to what – no, _whom_ he had tripped over. A couple of feet behind him, lay Atemu still as death.

Pale beneath the steadily piling snow, Atemu lay with his eyes closed. The front of his sweater was torn to shreds, bloodied beyond recognition as if long razor blade fingers had sliced at him in a desperate bid for his mortal heart. With a shaky breath, Yuugi's vision blurred, and he could not tell what was cloth and what was Atemu. Unable to feel his legs, or much of anything for the shock that consumed him, Yuugi crawled over with trembling limbs. He kneeled in the frozen blood at Atemu's side, eyes burning and stomach twisting as he struggled to take in the gruesome sight.

He swore he could see a glimmer of bone shining out from the laceration.

“No,” Yuugi whispered, and his voice was lost to the wailing wind.

As swiftly as it had come, the gale hushed into a whisper, and the snow resumed in peaceful flakes. Above, the gray sky was beginning to lighten. It could have been a perfect setting for a hot chocolate by a roaring fire, but the gruesome sight of Atemu's body in the stinging cold stole the thought. Several paces away, as though flung to the side, was Atemu's purchase, tucked in a blanket of white. The brown bag was done for, soaked through and torn, the thermos laying a ways further, unharmed.

Shaking, a whimper left Yuugi's throat and he squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to gather himself for a second, to push through the shock and _think._ Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to pull his wits about himself, hoping he was in a dream. He bit his tongue, knowing all too well that his skin was far too numb to feel a pinch, and opened his eyes with a wince, but Atemu's body was still there, half-covered in a sheet of snow. Tentatively, he reached out, moving his fingertips to Atemu's neck. There was no warmth, and Yuugi ripped his hand away, a wicked shudder ripping through his body. With another breath, he tried again, placing his trembling fingers to Atemu's neck. The bile rose in his throat and Yuugi clapped his other hand over his mouth, swallowing it down.

 _No, no, no,_ he thought as his head spun with dismay. _It's just too cold,_ he prayed, _my fingers are just numb._ He dropped his hand from his mouth, hovering it over Atemu's hand as though he would grip it. He could see that the nails of Atemu's fingers had turned purple with cold.

Yuugi's hand fell to the ground.

“Atemu,” Yuugi whispered, but his voice cracked and he clenched his jaw shut, hot tears blazing down his cheeks.

“Yuugi!”

Startled, Yuugi yelped and whipped his head around, eyes widening when he saw Juudai rushing into the clearing. He skidded to a stop at the scene before him. Juudai was disheveled and still in his nightclothes with a rouge-colored winter jacket thrown over his brown long-sleeved shirt. Instantly, he covered his mouth, a gagging sound leaving him as he backed away in horror.

“Holy shit,” Juudai breathed.

“Juudai,” Yuugi sobbed, “Juudai, he's dead.” He breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating as he gasped. “He's dead,” Yuugi whimpered. Striking Atemu's shoulder, he screamed. “Atemu!” But before he could break down into sobs, Atemu's body convulsed before he suddenly gasped, eyes snapping open. Yuugi screamed again, frightened, and Juudai let loose his own startled cry.

“Holy shit!”

“Atemu!”

A wave of earth-shattering relief consumed Yuugi whole and he suddenly felt very faint. His palms found Atemu's clothed shoulder and he gripped the joint, grounding himself. Breathing raggedly, Yuugi clenched it tight, squeezing the icy water out of the wet cloth. After a second, his wavering vision focused on Atemu's wide and scared eyes.

“Yu –” Atemu gasped, choking and coughing as his body shivered violently with cold. Yuugi forced himself into the present, hands shaking as he moved them over Atemu's chest. Ignoring the blood, viscera, and his own dizzying and tumultuous emotions, Yuugi began to chant, concentrating heavily on healing Atemu. He could hear him struggling to speak, but dared not stop. He was quickly joined by Juudai who dropped down at Atemu's other side with an audible gulp.

“Yuugi, you've never tried healing this much damage before,” Juudai said. “Are you sure you can?” But Yuugi did not pause. His voice only grew louder, his magic stirring the mess below into motion as the muscles in Atemu's chest began to knit together in excruciating slowness.

Taking that as an affirmative, Juudai turned his attention to Atemu who was still fighting to speak.

“Don't try to talk, dude,” Juudai said, his voice surprisingly steady. “Conserve your energy.” He grabbed Yuugi's wrist, getting his attention. “We need to get him out of the snow –”

But Yuugi shook his head profusely, his voice strong and determined.

Knowing better than to argue, Juudai covered Yuugi's hands with his own, channeling his own magic to aid Yuugi's. He then joined Yuugi's chant, copying his every word. Soon, Atemu stopped trying to speak, instead focusing bleary bloodshot eyes onto Yuugi, his body shivering uncontrollably in the snow.

Juudai spared a moment to look at Yuugi, watching as the tears filled his eyes and dribbled down his cheeks only to freeze along his jaw like miniature glass spheres. His pink skin was quickly fading to purple, to indigo, before stopping at blue. Juudai felt his heart clench in worry as Yuugi's entire body took on a cerulean hue, the previous rose flush to his cheeks now azure. Forcing his eyes away, Juudai concentrated on healing Atemu, his heart squeezed into his throat.

It seemed like hours passed when the snow finally let up, and Juudai's knees felt frozen to the ground, crying with sharp spikes of pain. He was keenly aware when Yuugi's voice began to waver, his words beginning to slur. Juudai looked at him in worry, noting his exhaustion and the way his body trembled with cold before he glanced down at Atemu's chest. He deemed it good enough and pulled Yuugi's hands away, breaking him from his trance-like chant. When Yuugi struggled to pull away from him, Juudai held on tight and spoke.

“He can heal the rest on his own,” Juudai said, “you'll die if you keep going – you've already lost your glamour and you can't stop shivering! I can survive this, but you _can't.”_ Still, Yuugi stubbornly yanked his hands away and placed them over Atemu's chest, chanting once more. Juudai grabbed his hands again, moving them away and holding fast. “Yuugi, _listen,_ we gotta get him somewhere warm – you'll both die of hypothermia and this would have been for nothing!”

Only then did Yuugi stop, looking up at Juudai with a pallid, tear-streaked, and blue face.

“He l-lives c-cl-lose by,” Yuugi croaked, his words stilted by the shaking in his body. It was as if he was finally feeling the cold, no longer distracted from it. His voice was raspy and his hands haphazardly brushed the snow from Atemu's body, fingers stiff and a dark blue. “H-help m-m-me carry him –”

“I can do it, Yuugi,” Juudai whispered. “I'm strong, remember?”

Slowly, Yuugi nodded, and Juudai easily lifted Atemu into his arms, noting that the man had passed out. As he tried to ascend to his feet, his knees threatened to break, and he grit his teeth, breathing sharply as he bent and extended them, willing the feeling to return. He turned to Yuugi and frowned when he saw him magically destroying Atemu's blood, the red turning black as he sullied it beyond viable use.

“Yuugi?”

“I c-can't leave it like this,” Yuugi said fervently, “they use m-magic – they'll come b-back for it.”

Understanding crossed Juudai's face and he waited as Yuugi sluggishly picked up his things, collecting a couple of wet bundles and a thermos from the ground. He looked seconds from collapse, but Yuugi kept moving, propelled by his will alone. Juudai nervously worried at his lip, toying with it as he watched. Tucking the things away into his bag, Yuugi began walking with Juudai close behind, leading them away.

* * *

“Who just _leaves_ their door unlocked?” Juudai asked aloud as Yuugi walked into Atemu's home, motioning him in. He followed Yuugi inside, and spotted the living room to his left. Walking over to the long couch, he heard Yuugi shut and lock the door. “It's like he's _inviting_ bad news.”

Laying Atemu on the couch, Juudai stepped back as Yuugi descended upon him. He began to peel Atemu's clothes off, being extra careful around his wound.

“Juudai,” Yuugi said as he tugged Atemu's boots off, “start a fire, it's freezing in here.”

Nodding, Juudai walked over to the fireplace and frowned. The grate was empty, clean of soot and debris, albeit covered in a small layer of dust from disuse. Juudai searched for wood, frowning when he saw none. Giving it up as a lost cause for the moment, Juudai turned his attention elsewhere. He spotted a space heater by the wall and switched it on, moving it closer to the couch.

“You need to take off your clothes too if they're wet,” Juudai said, and Yuugi shook his head.

“The heater is enough for now,” he easily dismissed as Juudai turned it on high. “I need a bowl of hot water,” Yuugi said, and Juudai looked up.

Yuugi had taken a knitted blanket crumpled at the end of the couch and draped it over Atemu below the gash in his chest. He was hovering over the coffee table where their first aid kit sat, its contents scattered haphazardly by Yuugi's shaking hands as he grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Juudai looked at Atemu closely and saw the amulet around his neck. His eyes narrowed, but he chewed the inside of his cheek and said nothing about it.

“At least take off your coat,” he said, and Yuugi shrugged it off jerkily, more preoccupied by the insides of the kit than his actions. “I'll get the water,” Juudai said. He walked into the kitchen, glancing back at Yuugi to see him almost touching Atemu's bloodied chest, whispering a spell as he went.

“Yuugi, you need to stop using your magic,” Juudai called back to him, and Yuugi paused, meeting his gaze.

“It's just a spell to stop – or well, at least _slow_ whatever dark magic is in his wound from spreading,” Yuugi said, biting his lip momentarily. “And one to stop the bleeding.”

A concerned crease in his brow, Juudai sighed and soon found a glass punch bowl in the back corner of one of the cupboards. It was covered in dust, and the furrow in his brow deepened. The entire house reeked of neglect and years of dust underneath the pungent scent of lemon cleaner. It felt lonely and abandoned. Yet he could see clear signs of life around him. There were washed dishes in the rack, the counters were wiped down, and even a coffeemaker stood, shiny new and tucked away in a corner. Clearing his head from the thoughts, he washed the glass bowl and filled it with water. Setting it on the counter, he stuck his hand into the cold water with a shiver and focused.

“Boil,” he whispered, “boil, boil, b – ah!” Ripping his hand out, Juudai frowned at his reddened and tender skin. However, in mere seconds, the red soothed away and his skin was normal once more. He quickly searched the drawers, finding a pack of new wash cloths. “Lucky!” he cried, pulling two white cloths free. Using them as mittens, Juudai took up the hot bowl and returned to the couch, setting it down beside Yuugi.

“Thank you, Juudai,” Yuugi said, taking the cloths and setting one aside. He dipped the second into the water and wrung it out with a hiss, waving it to cool off. Carefully, he began to clean out the injury, his hands steady once more.

Juudai watched for only a little while, astounded by his brother's gentle movements. He rinsed the cloth often, requesting a fresh bowl of hot water halfway through. Juudai's gaze turned to Yuugi, to his blue skin and tired expression, and he sighed in defeat, doing Yuugi's bidding without complaint.

When his brother was done cleaning and disinfecting, Yuugi set the second bloodied cotton balls aside and picked up the gauze next. He returned his attention to Atemu, dutifully laying gauze over his wound. He proceeded to grab a bandage roll and opened it. Without a word, Juudai helped hold Atemu up as Yuugi wrapped the bandage around him. When Yuugi affixed the end, he stepped back.

“I'll get some wood for a real fire,” Juudai said. He made his way to the kitchen door and found it unlocked just like the front had been. Pausing for only a moment, he looked back at Atemu in confusion before he ventured outside. Walking around the house, he found the shed he had noticed earlier when they had ambled into the clearing. Before he reached it, however, he saw a small mound of snow against the house and he approached it.

“Let it be wood,” he prayed as he began to shove the piles of snow off, revealing a blue tarp underneath. He cleared off the rest of the snow and lifted the tarp, grateful when his eyes fell upon a small pile of chopped wood. Eagerly taking half the load into his arms, Juudai covered the rest of the wood and made his way back. As he entered the kitchen, he walked in on Yuugi carefully putting Atemu into a beige bathrobe.

“I found this in the dryer in the basement,” Yuugi said, pointing with his chin at the kitchen to an open door close to the fireplace. Juudai could see steps leading down into darkness beyond it. There were two other doors next to it, a swinging door and two panel, bi-fold doors for the pantry. “There was nothing else,” Yuugi said, “other than this towel.” He gestured to the cotton lump he had left by Atemu's head. “I didn't want to leave him alone too long,” he muttered. “Didn't check much.”

“Need help?” Juudai asked.

“I've got it,” Yuugi said quietly, “I'm almost done.” Nodding, Juudai went to the fireplace. However before he could set the logs in, Yuugi spoke up. “Make sure the damper is open and the chimney is clear,” he said.

“Great,” Juudai grumbled before breathing deeply and dropping to his hands and knees. He looked up, squinting. Lifting a hand, he summoned a ball of fire and raised it. “Closed,” he said and reached out with his other hand. He pushed on the handle, frowning when it would not budge. “Maybe rusted,” he murmured and jabbed at the lever with his palm, only to hear a grating crack as it gave way and dust and old soot billowed out.

“Juudai!” Yuugi admonished.

“Whoops,” Juudai mumbled, and he sneezed loudly. He shrugged, wiping at his nose. “At least it's open now.” He carefully settled the lever into place with a grimace and peered inside to make sure it was open, sneezing several times more in the process. Shaking his head and blinking rapidly, Juudai set a few of the logs within it before summoning a ball of fire into the palm of his hand and laying it on the wood. “C'mon, _light,”_ he whispered. “Fire is your element, Juudai, you can do it.”

“I'd remind you that you're not alone and I can hear you,” Yuugi joked wryly, “but there wouldn't really be a point.”

“You'll get there someday,” Juudai replied. He waited until it caught and he fanned the flames with his hand, spreading it with a muttered word and starting a draft up the chimney. When he was done, Juudai sighed, tired, and turned to see Yuugi walking back from the kitchen, cleaning his hands with what looked like a dishtowel. He left it beside the first aid kit on the coffee table and grabbed a bandaid from the kit, opening it and wrapping it around his finger.

Instinctively, Juudai cast a glance at the door in the kitchen. Around the border of the door, were blue sigils.

Juudai frowned at Yuugi as the scent of Yuugi's blood reached his nose, but Yuugi did not meet his gaze, his eyes focused on Atemu's still features. He kneeled beside him on the floor, brushing Atemu's bangs away from his cheek, looking winded and more exhausted than before. His brow creased when Atemu shivered.

Juudai clenched his jaw.

“Yuugi –”

“We need blankets,” Yuugi said. “He's still cold.”

Juudai deflated. Yuugi was stubborn, and he knew there was no use in arguing. It would only exhaust his brother more.

“I'll see if I can find any,” Juudai said, “stay with him while I look.”

As he made to leave, however, he realized that his comment had been completely unnecessary. By the looks of it, Yuugi had no intention of leaving Atemu's side. He had not even glanced at Juudai, his eyes never leaving Atemu. Instead he picked up the towel from before and gently lifted Atemu's head, toweling his hair dry.

Biting his tongue, Juudai ventured throughout the house, opening doors and briefly looking inside. The house was large and the furniture covered in sheets with only a couple removed as though someone had begun to clean but later regretted it. The furniture was old, but beautiful. It was far from something someone like Atemu with his minimal effort in grooming, haphazard appearance, and bitter outlook would own.

Juudai carried on in his search until he found a linen closet filled with heavy blankets, a new addition by the looks of the dust-free shelves. Grabbing them, Juudai made his way back to the living room. He froze when he rounded the staircase into the room, and his gaze softened.

“Oh, Yuugi,” he groaned.

With a sigh, he set the blankets down on the coffee table and made his way over to Yuugi, looking down at him. Yuugi had fallen asleep on the floor by Atemu's side, their hands clutched together. Carefully, he separated their hands, frowning when Yuugi momentarily refused to let go. Once he achieved it, Juudai picked him up and placed him on the loveseat, covering him with a blanket before doing the same with Atemu. It came as no surprise when Yuugi did not wake, but Juudai's heart still wrenched with tormenting unease. When he was done, he set more wood into the fire and took a seat in the remaining armchair, letting out a huff.

“Oh, man, grandpa's gonna kill us,” he complained before he too fell asleep.

* * *

Startled into consciousness, Juudai woke at five in the afternoon, yawning, and sat up. He looked around wildly before his eyes fell upon Atemu. He was awake, sitting slouched against the sofa and staring right at him, looking weary and pale. The blankets Juudai and Yuugi had covered him with in the morning were draped across Atemu's lap and legs, his bathrobe parted as though he had been inspecting his bandages. In the grate, the fire had died out, but the room was warm and comfortable.

“Welcome back to the world of the living,” Juudai murmured sleepily, rubbing at his eyes as he yawned, “how are you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to rip my lungs out of my chest,” Atemu replied, his baritone gravely and weak, “which I'm pretty sure is what happened.”

At his words, Juudai sat up straighter, more alert than before.

“You don't know?” he asked, and the corner of Atemu's lip curled in disgust, but it was not directed at him.

“Blindsided me,” Atemu said bitterly, looking away from Juudai as though he were ashamed about his admission. “I didn't even hear them coming.”

“Them?” Juudai questioned. “More than one?”

“Singular,” Atemu grunted. “S'far as I know.”

Juudai frowned, but said nothing as he glanced to Yuugi, noting that he was still asleep. His older brother was curled up on the sofa, blanket enveloping him like a cocoon and Juudai could only see the top half of Yuugi's head peeking out, eyes closed and brow slightly furrowed. His skin still had that bluish tint and his ears were different, pointed at the tip. Looking to Atemu, Juudai saw that he too was watching Yuugi with a pensive brow, undoubtedly confused by the color of Yuugi's skin.

Genetics were a curious thing and Yuugi had won the lottery in it. Being half fae, his blood was not red, but blue, and it had taken Yuugi until puberty to learn how to keep up his glamour without worry of being discovered. He had mastered it to the level where he could keep it up in his sleep – Juudai had seen him do it many times over. But while Juudai enjoyed seeing Yuugi in his natural skin, he did not enjoy knowing that the reason the glamour was gone was out of pure magical exhaustion. Only when Yuugi overexerted himself did his glamour ever come down, and that was not knowledge Juudai took pleasure in.

Like all folk, Yuugi had to blend in to the conventional world of humans, hiding his magic and his natural skin to keep himself safe. But even in the supernatural community, fae were rare and the lore around them was often twisted and negative to the point that fae were considered dangerous beings, distrusted and given wide berth. It hurt Juudai to think about. Yuugi was nothing like those ghastly tales described and neither was his adoptive father. They were not tricky beings with even more finicky hearts. They did not steal children and whisk them away to Faerie, never to be seen again – although Juudai had learned that there was truth in those tales, but they were either accidents caused by fae children who only wanted to play or the few bad apples that every community had.

So when Atemu continued to stare at Yuugi like he were a curious specimen he wanted to examine, Juudai cleared his throat. Instead of satisfying Atemu's obvious curiosity, Juudai brought his attention away from Yuugi.

“So you didn't see who it was – anything?” he asked and Atemu reluctantly met his eyes.

“Nothing useful,” Atemu said, “just a shadow … it's weird, though.”

“What is?” Juudai asked.

Atemu shrugged, eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement. He looked down at his bandaged chest where the amulet lay innocently over his bandages.

“When it attacked me,” Atemu said, “it almost felt like it bounced off. I was thrown back.” He shrugged again, though he winced minutely. “I was on the ground and this thing” – Atemu touched the amulet, fingers brushing over the glossy, black stone – “it got really hot. It almost burned … then the fucker was gone.” He gripped the amulet, as though he were annoyed that his attacker had fled. “Next thing I remember,” Atemu murmured, “is seeing Yuugi … he was crying.” Again, his eyes went to Yuugi, his expression closed off but searching, as though merely by sight he would be able to find the truth to his memories. “I felt my chest burn … and then I woke up here,” he finished.

“Dude,” Juudai said seriously, “you died.”

That got Atemu's attention. His head swiveled and he stared at Juudai, eyes wide.

“What?” he said, baffled.

“Yeah,” Juudai nodded, “you were dead in the snow, man. I couldn't hear your heartbeat.” He grimaced. “I thought I was going to hurl – but then Yuugi hit you and you sort of restarted like an old computer. Scared the hell out of us, actually.” He shook his head. “It was totally creepy,” he said, raising his arms and curling his fingers into claws, “you looked like a zombie.” Dropping his arms, he relaxed into the chair and shrugged.

“...So I died,” Atemu said thoughtfully, “huh.” His hand left the amulet, trailing over his bandages as though he wanted to peek under them and examine the damage.

“That amulet protected you from the worst of it,” Juudai suddenly said, “it saved your life. Well, Yuugi technically saved your life, but that helped a lot.”

Absently, Atemu took hold of the amulet, his fingers gently caressing it. He raised it to eye level, a frown puckering his brow.

“Really,” he said breathlessly.

“Yuugi and I healed you, though, once you came back,” Juudai said, sitting up and stretching his arms up, working the kinks out of his body, “but we couldn't finish the job – not without Yuugi going comatose, so you've still got a pretty grisly wound there.” He lowered his arms and pointed at Atemu's chest.

“Yeah,” Atemu said, touching his other hand to his wound and wincing, “I can feel it.” Turning his head, he took a breath before looking at Juudai. “Thank you,” he said, “for saving me.” Juudai waved his hands, trying to convey it was no big deal, but Atemu shook his head. “I know I wasn't really all that nice to you,” he said. “Sorry, I'm kind of an asshole – trying to work through it.”

“Don't worry about it,” Juudai said with a shrug, “Yuugi would have never forgiven me if I hadn't helped – I would have anyway, but just saying.” He abruptly shook his head and smiled. “Anyway, you're welcome.” He shifted on his seat, stretching his legs before slouching and placing his hands over his stomach, groaning. “Man, my stomach hurts,” he whined, “can only imagine what Yuugi's gonna feel like when he wakes up.”

“What do you mean?” Atemu asked.

“Yuugi's been using a lot of magic the last couple of days,” Juudai said with a yawn, “and then he went and stitched you back together, muscle by muscle. He practically passed out once we got you in here –” He stopped abruptly, as though he had revealed too much and quickly sidetracked. “I should get back and get him a change of clothes – maybe get murdered by grandpa for getting into this mess – I should brew up a potion too, or he's gonna have the worst hangover ever.” He stood then, rubbing at his eyes. “Oh, man, the shop,” he groaned, “totally didn't open today … oh, my god, I had orders to deliver today.” He made to start walking when Atemu gave a start.

“Wait,” Atemu said, “the person – thing that attacked me … it could still be out there.”

To his surprise, Juudai snorted.

“If the amulet did its job,” Juudai said, “whatever's after you is nursing some gnarly wounds itself. It's not coming back anytime soon.”

Surprised, Atemu stared at the amulet, his frown deepening.

“Just what exactly did Yuugi do to this thing?” he asked, bewildered.

“He didn't tell you?” Juudai asked, looking equally surprised.

“He said it was for protection,” Atemu said, almost defensively.

“...It is,” Juudai said, frowning as he scrubbed at the back of his neck, “but it's more than that.”

“What do you mean?” Atemu asked, and Juudai looked to the ground, concentrating before he crossed his arms. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before he looked up.

“Yuugi poured magic into it,” Juudai said. “Um, well, Yuugi explains it like the antibodies in your blood. When there's something foreign in your body, the antibodies attack it – but the magic does more than that. It basically acts like a force field. It _detects_ other magic and spits it back out. If something tries to hurt you, it hurts itself too.” He shrugged. “It's pretty advanced stuff, so I don't know that much about it. Mom's got it kinda banned, but Yuugi convinced her to teach it to him – I'm not allowed to learn it yet.”

“I see,” Atemu said with a nod, but he did not understand at all. If anything, Atemu grew more baffled by Yuugi and his motives. He turned peer at Yuugi, struggling to figure him out. “What about Yuugi?” he asked.

“Oh, he'll be asleep for a while,” Juudai said casually, “maybe 'til tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Atemu said, “I'll look after him while you're gone, but what exactly am I supposed to do about this thing that attacked me?”

“Thanks, dude,” Juudai said and shrugged, nonplussed, “we'll figure that out once Yuugi wakes up.” And while Atemu was processing that sentence, he left.

“Wait,” Atemu called, “who took off my clothes?”

“Yuugi did!” Juudai unnecessarily shouted from outside. “And lock your door!”

Atemu settled back into the couch with a frown.

“Huh,” he hummed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter summary is very misleading, but I got a huge kick out of it. Hope you guys enjoyed! I welcome your input. See you later!


	7. His Name Is Yuugi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuusei returns to Atemu's home, and Atemu lets him in on everything that occurred since he stormed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead.

After Juudai had gone, Atemu listened to his departing footsteps until the crunching snow grew too faint for his ears. His eyes trailed to Yuugi and his blue skin, his deep breaths loud in the silence of Atemu's home. Juudai had said Yuugi would sleep for a long while due to magical exhaustion. Turning his eyes away, Atemu ran a curious hand over his bandages, wincing as the simple touch sent waves of pain through him. A snap of a branch ripped his attention away and he listened keenly as it fell, followed by the soft thuds of piled snow hitting the ground. Atemu took a trembling breath and shook his head.

 _Jumpy much?_ came the surly thought. _It's just a weak branch._ At that moment, his stomach rumbled with hunger and he placed his hand over it.

“Time to eat then,” he sighed.

With a full-body wince, Atemu pushed himself off the couch, grunting with the effort. Once on his feet, he spared Yuugi another long glance before his gaze darted to the fireplace. The fire had gone out and the room was beginning to cool. Walking over, he bent at the waist with a pained grunt and peered in, noting the off displacement of the damper. Frowning, he grabbed the handle with the intent of closing it to trap the heat inside. Lifting it, it gave a grating crack, and he jumped when it suddenly came free. The entire piece fell onto the ashes, handle and all. It hit with a loud clang, upsetting the black flakes. They swept onto the floor and over Atemu's feet, the dust taking to the air instantly.

As fast as he could, Atemu covered his mouth and nose, stumbling back to get away from the ashes. He stopped just before he hit the back of the sofa and violently sneezed, his other hand gripping the backrest as his knees gave way.

“Ow,” Atemu mumbled, dropping his hand to his chest as it throbbed viciously with pain. “Fuck.” He knelt on the floor for a long moment, squeezing his eyes shut and refusing to breathe as the agony in his chest subsided.

When it finally did, Atemu covered his mouth and nose with the edge of his bathrobe and breathed raggedly. He pulled himself up onto his feet, his body hunched, and peeked over the back of the piece of furniture to see that Yuugi was still fast asleep, undisturbed by the commotion. Glancing at the fireplace and the ashes scattered around it, Atemu shook his head.

He did not have the energy to clean that up.

“Fuck that,” he said.

Straightening, he groaned and his vision blurred, suddenly dizzy. Atemu braced his hand on the sofa, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes until he felt steady again. Opening them, he still felt faint, but with slow measured steps, Atemu made his way to the kitchen. He felt wrecked and lightheaded, so weak that he heavily questioned how he would defend himself if someone attacked. He was worse than the previous day, and there was a slight tremble to his body. He knew his healing was taking most of his energy, but added to his recovery from the curse, his body felt about ready to drop into a grave. When he made it to the kitchen's island, he gripped the edge of the counter and took pause, eyes slowly lifting to the door.

All around the frame were symbols. Sigils or runes, Atemu did not know what they were, but they were written in a peacock-blue liquid. Dropping the cloth from his face, Atemu pushed off the counter and wandered over. Once close enough, he took a tentative sniff. The stench of it permeated his nose, like the scent of mold, but sweet and strangely familiar. Try as he might, however, he could not place the smell. Frowning, he turned away from the door and continued on to the table where a messenger bag had been left open, its contents frantically spilled onto the counter.

It smelled of Yuugi.

Reaching out, Atemu carefully returned the contents into the bag before he took the white bundles of tea, a wry smile pulling at his lips. They were oddly dry, though he recalled them falling into the snow. Nodding to himself, he decided it was time for some tea. As fast as he was able to, he followed Yuugi's instructions, and as he waited for the water to boil, Atemu went to the fridge, his stomach calling once more for sustenance. When he opened the door, however, he sighed. There was butter, milk, a jar of olives, and something that looked like an avocado two months past its expiration date. The scent was not any better and Atemu grimaced, closing the fridge. He was making his way to the pantry next, when he suddenly heard the sound of crunching snow. Alert, he stilled, listening as the steady steps grew closer to his home.

The thought of Juudai crossed his mind, but when Atemu honed his hearing, he counted four distinct steps. After a couple of minutes, only one heartbeat could be heard. His shoulders lowered, though they remained tense, and Atemu grabbed the bundle of tea, undoing the strings before dropping the contents into the pot of boiling water. He then slowly made his way over to the door, peering out and waiting. Soon, a black wolf padded into view through the leftover snow, coming towards the house. When Atemu saw the golden stripes along its ears, his heart settled from its quickened beat.

The wolf paused just before it reached the edge of the trees. It stood there for a moment, idly licked its jaw, and began to pace.

Eerily reminded of Yuugi, Atemu laughed to himself and opened the door. Instantly, two bright, blue eyes focused on him and the wolf stopped pacing to sit in the snow.

Atemu sighed.

“I didn't think you would come see me so soon,” he said.

In response, the wolf snuffled a snort, trotting over and past him. Once inside, Atemu closed the door, turning to see the wolf dart through the living room with a curious sniff to the back of the couch where Yuugi lay before rounding into the foyer. As soon as Atemu heard it start up the steps, he sighed to himself and returned to his tea to strain it into a mug.

Tired of standing, Atemu took his mug and made his way over to the table next to the windows, glancing out through the gaps in the curtains. In the late afternoon, it was quiet, though less sinister than he expected with his current dilemma. Sitting down with a grunt, Atemu sipped his tea, ignoring the burn to his tongue for the effects it brought him. His bones felt sturdier with it, and he sighed in gratitude as his strength slowly returned. Walking around his kitchen had winded him, but within the next few minutes, he no longer felt as though he were buried in sand.

When Atemu heard footsteps come back down the stairs, he looked up to see Yuusei walk into the living room. He was wearing a bathrobe, and Atemu sighed at the thought of a pile of fur and claws somewhere in his home. As he passed through the living room, he looked at the sofa with confusion where Yuugi lay hidden within a blanket and then at the broken damper in the fireplace. However, when he glanced at Atemu, all of that curiosity disappeared, replaced with a frown of concern. His gaze drifted over Atemu in scrutiny.

“Do you mind cleaning that up for me?” Atemu asked. “I'd do it, but I'm not currently able.”

“What happened to you?” Yuusei asked. “You look…” He let the sentence die.

“Like death ate me and shat me out?” Atemu finished for him, and Yuusei briefly closed his eyes, nodding his assent. He entered the kitchen, pausing at the island. “Well, that's because it did,” Atemu said grimly, “I died this morning.”

“Funny,” Yuusei said, walking over to the pot of tea on the stove. He looked in before he made his way over to the coffee machine.

“Really,” Atemu insisted, brushing the cloth of his robe aside to show the bandages that wrapped around his chest, “I actually died today.”

Sparing him a glance, Yuusei stilled before he turned his full attention to Atemu, his concern growing.

“You're serious,” he said. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” Atemu said, shrugging with a wince. “Turns out, I really was cursed. Yuugi cured me –”

“The witch,” Yuusei helpfully pointed out, pulling the machine out into the open.

“Yes,” Atemu sighed, lacking the energy to be annoyed, “his name is Yuugi.”

“Oh, I know,” Yuusei said with a nod as he walked over to the pantry and took out the coffee container, “I'm just surprised you're calling him by name.”

“Toss me crackers or something, I'm starving – but yeah, I went to apologize to him,” Atemu admitted, pointing to the pantry as Yuusei turned around. Yuusei turned back, quickly looking through before grabbing a plastic jar of trail mix. He left it within arm's reach of Atemu, and Atemu nodded gratefully, unscrewing the top. He said, “Realized I was being an ass and paid him a visit around five. I should have probably waited until it was light out. Not sure why –”

“Five in the morning?” Yuusei asked.

“Yes,” Atemu said heavily. “I just said I wasn't sure why –”

 _“Before_ sunrise,” Yuusei interrupted once again.

“Yes,” Atemu huffed.

“You realize that you could have waited for the sun to actually rise,” Yuusei said, making his way to the coffeemaker on the kitchen counter ten feet away.

“Are you going to let me finish any of my sentences?” Atemu tried to growl, but unfortunately for him, it came out more like a tired whine.

“Go ahead,” Yuusei said, waving a hand and going about, setting up the machine for a brew.

“Wash the basket out first,” Atemu reprimanded as Yuusei made to set in a new filter. He waited for Yuusei to comply with his demand before he continued his tale. “Anyway,” he said, “as I was coming back home, something attacked me. Didn't see who or what it was, but it couldn't finish the job because of this” – Atemu took hold of the amulet, noting for the first time, that there was a small, hairline crack in the stone – “it protected me.”

“Was about to say that silver wasn't your color,” Yuusei remarked as he glanced back to eye the amulet Atemu was staring at so intently. He cleared his throat, but Atemu did not look away from it. “So what happened then?” he asked, and Atemu finally looked at him, dropping the necklace and regretting his careless movement when it smacked against his wound.

“I died,” Atemu said as he laid a hand against the spot, “or so they tell me – they being Yuugi's brother –”

“Yuugi's brother?” Yuusei asked curiously.

“Yuugi's brother – adopted,” Atemu replied with a grimace. “Stop interrupting.”

In response, Yuusei nodded and he remained silent, starting the coffeemaker and turning around to lean against the counter. “As I was saying,” Atemu said with a heavy sigh, “I died, but I came back – not sure how that happened exactly. Don't remember anything after the attack. But Yuugi and his brother healed me, brought me home, and I woke up feeling like shit. Now we're here and that's why he's there.” He sipped at his tea and leaned back in his chair, quiet.

“I'm glad you're okay,” Yuusei said lowly, “would have sucked if the last memory I had of you was that fight.”

“It would've,” Atemu agreed, putting down his cup. He took a breath, letting it out through his nose. “I'm sorry, Yuusei,” he said, staring at his mug, “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah, you were,” Yuusei assented, “you really forgot about my dad.”

“I said I was sorry –” Atemu began to say, but Yuusei cut him off.

“Atemu,” Yuusei said, crossing his arms and looking to the ground, “I'm allowed to be angry – I should be furious, actually – but I'm not. I just need a little time. Just _let_ me.”

“Fine,” Atemu said, grabbing his mug again, “I don't have the energy for this anyway.”

“You're still my brother, Atemu,” Yuusei said firmly, “no matter what.” He made his way to Atemu and patted him on the back. “You'll always be family to me.”

“But you'll still be mad at me,” Atemu said, “even when I almost die.” He winced as Yuusei's pats hit a little too hard.

“Yeah,” Yuusei said, “so why are you drinking that stuff? I could smell it from outside.”

“Yuugi's tea,” Atemu explained as the coffeemaker bubbled and percolated in the background, “makes me feel less like death.”

“What about whatever attacked you?” Yuusei asked, “I'm assuming they're not currently a threat since you're sitting around drinking _tea_ and Yuugi's taking a nap?”

“According to Yuugi's brother,” Atemu said, “that asshole that attacked me got a taste of their own medicine. And that's not a nap.” He waved the end of the amulet at Yuusei who stared at it carefully now that he was closer.

“It's the one you rejected,” he said. He reached out and took hold of it, intending to examine it, but Yuusei let out a hiss and immediately let it go. He stared at his hand with a frown. There was a burn there, welts rising angrily on his skin in the shape of the chain.

“It really is silver?” Yuusei whispered, “How did he manage it?”

“Magic,” Atemu said, as though that were answer enough, “I know as much about it as you do.”

“This guy just keeps getting better and better,” Yuusei muttered, amused, “it figures that he knows how to enchant silver into a protective metal.”

“He's talented,” Atemu said quietly. “He saved my life.”

“A witch saved you,” Yuusei mused aloud, “how does that feel?”

“Not as bad as I thought it would,” Atemu replied. “I'm alive after all. He's a good person, it seems.”

“I could've told you that,” Yuusei said quietly. “It's in his eyes. Hurts to be wrong, huh?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Atemu said as he gently swayed his mug. He watched the liquid swirl for a moment. “I'm glad I was wrong.”

Yuusei moved away, back to the counter where the coffeemaker sat, almost finished. He grabbed a clean mug and a spoon, then the sugar. He cleared his throat as he added a spoonful into his mug, taking care to avoid aggravating his burn.

“Back to whoever's got it in for you,” he said, “any idea who it is?”

“None,” Atemu said sorely, reaching into the jar and grabbing a handful of trail mix, “I have no idea who this fucker is. If I did, that son of a bitch wouldn't have gotten a chance at me.”

“So what are we going to do about it?” Yuusei asked, pouring coffee into his mug before setting the carafe back onto its cradle. He stirred his brew before setting the spoon in the sink.

“I don't know,” Atemu said as he ate the raisins first, picking them out, “probably should wait until Yuugi –”

“What is that?” Yuusei asked, taking his coffee and moving over to the door with confusion, “It looks like ink? But it seems thicker – like blood.”

“It's blood,” Atemu confirmed, abruptly comprehending as he recalled Yuugi's blue skin – the way he had spoken about _glamour_ , as though he had _known_. Atemu's eyes widened. He had finally connected the dots. “It's Yuugi's blood.”

“His blood is _blue?”_ Yuusei asked, bewildered before he suddenly seemed to understand. “What is he?” Before Atemu could even consider telling him, Yuusei continued. “Blood magic,” he said quietly and Atemu's gut churned.

 _That doesn't sound good,_ Atemu thought warily as Yuusei turned his gaze on him, eyes preoccupied.

“Blood magic is serious,” Yuusei said, casting a searching glance to Yuugi. He lowered his voice. “It verges on _black magic,_ Atemu.”

Standing from his chair, Atemu tossed the handful of trail mix into his mouth as he made his way over to the doorjamb, frowning at the blood. He eyed the markings carefully, chewing in thought.

“And you would know this _how_ exactly?” Atemu pried after he swallowed his mouthful, turning his gaze to Yuusei.

“Dad told me,” Yuusei said softly, looking away from Atemu, “before he … uh, just before. We would travel a lot. I don't remember most of the places we were in, but I remember the last – before we ended up by your pack.”

Atemu dropped his gaze at the mention, but Yuusei did not seem to notice.

“We lived near a coven,” Yuusei said. “It was this commune in the mountains. Dad would head up there for tonics to help my shifting and took me along a couple of times. They were kind people and sometimes they were in the middle of a ritual for other folk … dad said we were lucky to find them – apparently they were nomadic.

“They let us watch while we waited – they liked showing off,” Yuusei continued with a shrug, sipping his coffee. “On one of our last visits, before they picked up and left, they were doing blood magic with symbols like these.” He reached out a hand, fingers hovering over a symbol, but he did not touch it. “One of them was sick – they didn't even know they were.” He dropped his hand. Gazing down at his drink, Yuusei sighed. “They died.”

“I don't like this anecdote,” Atemu said plainly.

“Our lives are dangerous,” Yuusei replied, eyeing his coffee.

“So blood magic,” Atemu prompted.

“It uses a person's own life force to work,” Yuusei explained, looking to Atemu. “Dad had to explain it to me. It killed that witch because he was sick and the magic they were performing was far too unforgiving. My dad called it grey magic at its best. It's not easy, and a lot can go wrong.”

“So this spell thing,” Atemu said, motioning to the door.

“It's drawing power from the caster,” Yuusei said. He looked at Yuugi again. “In this case, Yuugi.”

Atemu was silent for a moment, gazing at the symbols. He let his gaze drift away, finding his way to the sofa where Yuugi slept soundly, his breaths deep, snores soft. He frowned.

“I'm starving,” he said, “and these peanuts aren't going to do the trick.”

Turning a disbelieving look onto Atemu, Yuusei shook his head.

“Is that really all you have to say after that?” he asked, and Atemu shrugged, facing him with a stoic expression.

“What am I supposed to do?” Atemu retorted. “Do I clean it off? Would that even work? If I do, would it hurt Yuugi?” He raised his arms in question and Yuusei nodded in understanding. “Or should I go wake him up and demand answers?” Atemu continued. “It's not like I can dictate what he can do with his own magic. He chose to do this.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Yuusei said, “you can stop.”

“We just have to wait until he wakes up to find out more,” Atemu said, though the clench in his jaw belied his impatience. “Might be until tomorrow according to his brother. In the meantime, maybe one of us should get some food.”

“By 'one of us', you mean me,” Yuusei replied, but it was a rhetorical comment. Atemu replied regardless.

“As much as I hate to say it, I'm in no condition to go out,” Atemu said with a grimace. “That tea isn't a miracle – it can't heal me.”

“Right,” Yuusei said, “I'll go see what I can find.” He looked out of the window, sighing. “Let's hope I don't run into anything.”

* * *

“How long have you been sitting there?”

The sun had already set, and Yuusei had returned from his outing with a plastic bag of takeout in hand. He had walked into the kitchen, wearing borrowed clothes, a long-sleeved navy shirt and jeans underneath a brown coat. He looked around only to find that Atemu had moved into the living room and was sitting on the coffee table, still in his bathrobe. His brow was puckered, arms crossed about his stomach, and he was staring at Yuugi who still slept underneath a heavy blanket. A tuft of blonde hair was the only visible part of him. Yet Atemu stared at the blanket as though he could see through it to Yuugi.

“He hasn't woken up even once.” Atemu replied quietly, tone stern. His arms tightened. “I tried. Even shook him. This isn't sleep.” He peered closer at Yuugi. “He hasn't even moved – is this normal?”

Silent, Yuusei set down the bag on the table.

“I thought you were hungry,” Yuusei said, and he turned a curious eye onto Atemu, watching intently.

“Yuugi's brother said it would take a while,” Atemu said, his forehead wrinkling further. “Might really have to wait until tomorrow for answers.”

Breathing out a heavy breath, Yuusei began to unpack the bag, pulling a variety of foam containers from within.

“I brought you burgers,” Yuusei said.

“Should I move him?” Atemu asked. It seemed he had not registered a single thing Yuusei had said. “I can clear one of the rooms –”

“Atemu,” Yuusei called firmly, and Atemu looked at him. “Come eat. Just leave him alone for a while. His brother said he'd wake on his own, so just leave him. His sleeping might have to do with his magic. Best not to disturb him.”

With some hesitancy, Atemu stood from the table, picking up his mug as he went. He came up to Yuusei, looking down at the food with a rise of a singular eyebrow.

“Is that a salad?” he questioned.

“I didn't know what Yuugi would like,” Yuusei admitted. “I grabbed a fruit cup too.”

“Yeah, I can smell it,” Atemu muttered.

“Here,” Yuusei said, sliding two foam containers towards him. “Burgers and fries.”

“Thanks,” Atemu said, and he sat at the table, his eyes sliding to Yuugi once more.

Yuusei followed his gaze, and he sat across from Atemu, pulling his own meal towards him.

“Eat before it gets any colder,” Yuusei said.

“I have a microwave,” Atemu retorted without thinking, and Yuusei said nothing as he began to eat.

* * *

Hours later, long after they had eaten and Yuusei had both cleaned and applied a temporary fix to the damper, they sat in warm comfort as the fire crackled in the grate. Atemu sat at the table, leaning back in his chair and arms loosely crossed over his stomach. His gaze was on the television in the living room. It was on, the weather of the week showcased on the screen. However, Atemu's eyes were unfocused. He was not watching it. His foot was tapping at the floor, the rhythm odd, a double-tap like a heartbeat.

Yuugi still slept.

Adjacent to Atemu, Yuusei stared down at the chessboard he had unearthed from Atemu's room. Atemu had taken one long look at it, and Yuusei had almost expected him to refuse by the crease in his brow and the stiffness of his shoulders. But in the end, Atemu had agreed to a game.

“It's your turn,” Yuusei said, and Atemu reached out, sliding a pawn forward without looking. Withholding a sigh, Yuusei took his pawn, replacing it with a white rook. “You're not even trying,” he said.

“I am,” Atemu replied, and Yuusei turned his gaze to Yuugi. He lay like an unusual fixture, a lump under the blanket. He had yet to move even an inch. Yuusei took a glass of water that sat next to the board and sipped at it. When he set it down, he motioned to the board.

“Sure,” he said. “It's your turn.”

Atemu reached out, frowning when his hand touched Yuusei's rook. He looked at the board and turned his gaze to the graveyard of black chess pieces. Dropping his hand, he scoffed.

“We should've played checkers,” he said.

“So I can beat you faster?” Yuusei said.

Atemu moved his knight, pettily taking Yuusei's bishop.

“Fuck off, Yuusei,” he scathingly replied.

Unbothered, Yuusei pointedly slid his pawn diagonally and pushed Atemu's knight out of its square.

“You suck at this game,” Yuusei said. “I've already taken both your knights, one of your rooks, five pawns, and your queen.”

“I'm injured,” Atemu bit out.

“Oh, I didn't realize you'd hit your head,” Yuusei easily countered, and Atemu knocked over his king in retaliation. He huffed.

“Check mate,” he said.

“How?” Yuusei inquired, and Atemu reached over, sliding one of his bishops out from the medley to the middle of the board where a line was clear to where his king had stood, trapped between white pieces. “Oh, I see,” Yuusei said. “You left your king out in the open so I would concentrate on attacking it and forget about my own.” He nodded. “Risky. You sacrificed a lot of pieces. Even your queen.”

Atemu grunted at him, but did not gloat.

“It was pure luck, wasn't it,” Yuusei said, and Atemu nodded.

Scratching at the back of his head, Yuusei considered his upset king before turning his eyes to Yuugi once more.

“Should we,” he hedged, “...try waking him again? It's nearly ten.”

“I don't know,” Atemu said. “I just know he's slept all day.”

“He must be hungry at the very least,” Yuusei said. “Will he be alright not eating?”

“I don't know,” Atemu repeated, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with a grimace. “I shook him pretty hard earlier and he didn't even twitch.”

“Try calling his brother?” Yuusei suggested, and Atemu shrugged. His tapping foot never wavered, and Yuusei did not think he even realized he was doing it.

“I don't have his number,” Atemu mumbled.

“Shouldn't we be coming up with a plan?” Yuusei said, looking to Atemu.

“I have a plan,” Atemu said, nodding firmly.

Yuusei breathed out, but not in relief. He closed his eyes and braced himself.

“What is it?” Yuusei asked.

“Don't die,” Atemu said in utmost seriousness.

Sighing, Yuusei opened his eyes, fixing Atemu with a deadpan expression.

“I had no idea you were a comedian,” Yuusei said flatly. He glanced from Atemu to Yuugi and back again. “Are we just going to keep staring awkwardly at him?” he asked, and Atemu averted his gaze, scoffing.

“I'm moving him,” Atemu said. He stood from the table, rounding it, and Yuusei intercepted him, placing a hand on his arm.

“I'll do it,” he said. “you're still getting your strength back.”

“I can do it,” Atemu said stubbornly. “What is he, fifty pounds wet? He's a sack of flour. Don't insult me –”

“Realistically, he's probably a buck ten … twenty-five at most,” Yuusei said. “And I'm not insulting you, I'm being considerate – how are you going to carry him with whatever wound you have there?” He motioned to Atemu's chest.

Looking down at his bandages, Atemu grimaced.

He opened his mouth to say something when the sound of thudding wood caught their attention. Atemu looked around just in time to see Juudai suddenly appear on the other side of the door, arms laden with two large brown paper bags. Atemu and Yuusei blinked at him, surprised, and Atemu approached, opening the door for Juudai. Frowning, Atemu realized he had been so distracted, that he had not been listening to his surroundings. He moved aside to let Juudai through, straining his hearing for anything amiss. As he looked out at the dark forest, Juudai walked in, smiling.

“I'm back!” Juudai said, “Sorry I'm late. Dude, you have no idea – holy _hello.”_ He paused in the doorway, brown eyes fixed upon Yuusei. His mouth parted slightly and he blushed. “Hi,” Juudai said with a wide smile, “I'm, um, ingredients.”

Eyebrow raised, Atemu looked at Juudai. He followed his gaze to Yuusei who was watching Juudai with puzzlement. He cleared his throat, and startled, Juudai dropped one of his bags. He quickly picked it up and set the bags down on the table as Atemu closed the door.

“Um, right, so I'm here,” Juudai said lamely, “yo. What's happening?”

“Yuugi's brother, I'm presuming?” Yuusei asked, and Juudai nodded.

“Yep, that's me!” he chirped, his easy geniality quickly returning. “Hey, how's it going?” He stepped forward, holding out a hand to Yuusei. “Hi,” he said as Yuusei shook his hand, “I'm single.”

Yuusei blushed, his body stiffening with unease. At the door, Atemu coughed as he refrained from laughing, wincing as the effort hurt his chest.

“Uh,” Yuusei said, and Juudai's smile cracked at the edges, faltering.

“I didn't say my name, did I?” Juudai asked and Yuusei shook his head. “I said the thing I was supposed to keep to myself,” Juudai said, but he was not talking to Yuusei anymore. “Of course I did.” He stepped away from Yuusei, turning to Atemu. “Introductions maybe?” Juudai suggested with an awkward laugh. “Who's the hottie with the body?”

“Atemu, help me,” Yuusei muttered in his embarrassment, barely loud enough to sound like a sigh. Thanks to his supernatural hearing, however, Atemu heard it, and so did Juudai. Atemu watched him flush pink, and took pity on them both.

“Juudai, this is Yuusei,” Atemu introduced him, making his way to the table to grab his mug of tea. Taking it, he turned around, facing both of them. “He's my brother.” He turned to Yuusei then. “Yuusei,” he said, smiling to himself, “this is Juudai, Yuugi's brother, a werewolf.” Then he watched with mirth as Yuusei's face heated.

 _Well,_ Atemu thought, grinning to himself in spite of Yuusei's awkward situation, _I'm not perfect._

“Half, actually,” Juudai said. “I'm also part witch. So you're a werewolf too?” He eagerly held out his hand again to Yuusei. “I'm Juudai,” he said, and froze, flushing a deep puce. His mortification doubled on top of Yuusei's in the space of the kitchen. “Right,” he said with a smile that made him look constipated, “you already got my name and we already shook hands.” He pointed with both arms to where Yuugi slept. “I'm just gonna check on Yuugi. Nice to meet ya, Yuusei.” In answer, Yuusei nodded without expression, and Juudai quickly walked the few steps into the living room. He kneeled by Yuugi, and Atemu distinctly heard him let out an inaudible whine and a hushed, “Yuugi, wake up soon, he's cute and I fucked up.”

Atemu snorted.

“Well,” Atemu said cheerfully, “now I feel loads better.”

In silence, Yuusei glared at him, briefly looking to Juudai in discomfort. When they had been kids, Yuusei had become easily embarrassed at compliments, unused to attention. Atemu smirked at him. It seemed that Yuusei had not grown out of that particular quirk. The smugness he felt almost made up for the punch Yuusei landed on his shoulder as he passed by with the excuse of grabbing his glass of water.

Atemu chortled, unconcerned.

“Yep,” he said, sipping his tea with a happy sigh, “I definitely feel better.”

“You're an asshole,” Yuusei muttered. He looked like he wanted to say more, his blue eyes betraying the indignation his expression would not convey. But the silence continued and Yuusei said nothing. Sighing, Atemu felt guilty and made a calming motion with his hand.

“Chill,” he mouthed after he made sure Juudai was busy checking on Yuugi, “he's embarrassed too.”

But instead of cheering Yuusei's spirits, Yuusei only shook his head. Shrugging, Atemu looked down at himself, still in a bathrobe and smelling funkier than he liked. He set down his mug and left the kitchen, intending to shower off the gross feeling on his skin. He heard Yuusei follow, but said nothing about it. When he arrived at his bedroom, he entered the bathroom and closed the door.

“That was awkward for everyone,” Yuusei said, his voice hushed, though Atemu could still clearly hear him.

“He thinks you're cute, get a grip,” Atemu answered as he pulled the bathrobe off and tossed it aside. He removed the necklace next, setting it next to the soap with a thoughtful brush to the black stone. Breathing deeply, he carefully began unraveling the bandages. He dropped the length into the sink as he went, bracing himself at the sight of the gauze underneath. Holding his breath, he peeled the gauze away from his chest, grimacing at the pain. “It's not like he asked you to sleep with him,” he said tightly through the strain.

“You suck,” Yuusei shot at him.

“I know,” Atemu said. “Ask him out or tell him you're not interested. Don't wuss out and hide behind me.”

“Oh good,” Yuusei remarked calmly, “it's nice to know your near-death experience didn't change your shitty attitude. I was beginning to worry.”

Atemu did not reply. He stood before his mirror, shocked. The wound, though currently not bleeding, was four large gashes in his chest, close to his heart. The wound was deep, it _felt_ deep. Atemu had half a mind to poke through it and see exactly how deep it went. Tentatively, he touched it and hissed in pain, vanishing the thought.

“Atemu?” came the steady voice of Yuusei.

“I'm fine,” Atemu responded, gazing with awe at the gouging in his chest, fingers hovering over the ragged skin. “It's just – it looks like something tried to claw my heart out.”

“Damn,” Yuusei breathed, “what the fuck.”

“Yeah,” Atemu sighed, turning away from the mirror and stepping into his bathtub. “What the fuck,” he echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so y'all know, Atemu was tapping his foot to the rhythm of Yuugi's heartbeat. I'm definitely crying.


	8. “Are you there, Ra? It's me, Atemu.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taking Atemu's advice, Yuusei spends time alone with Juudai while he watches over his sleeping brother. When Yuugi wakes, however, he ignores Juudai's protests and stubbornly seeks out Atemu. When he finds Atemu, Yuugi tends to his injury and Atemu learns more about him in turn. Much to his chagrin, Atemu begins to see Yuugi in a new, less antagonistic, light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3am. Kill me.
> 
> Slowly.
> 
> No, slower than that.

As Atemu showered, Yuusei grabbed the electric heater in the corner. He connected it and switched it on, making sure to place it away from flammable objects. As soon as he did that, he took a deep breath and left the room. When Yuusei stepped foot into the living room, it was to the sight of Juudai sitting on the coffee table. His legs were tucked underneath him, arms akimbo as he scrutinized Yuugi. Bracing himself, Yuusei made his way closer, and it appeared to him that said witch was still asleep. He came to a stop a few feet away from them, clearing his throat politely even though he was sure Juudai heard him coming a long time ago.

Glancing around, he noted that the fireplace was still lit, burning away peacefully and keeping the room warm.

“Is he alright?” Yuusei asked, and Juudai straightened. When he looked at him, Juudai's face changed instantly. His brown eyes lit up and a wide smile spread his lips.

“Yeah, he's fine,” Juudai replied. “Not as fine as you, though.” He winked playfully, and Yuusei swore he felt himself die a little inside.

Unsure of what kind of response he was supposed to give, Yuusei did not answer. Turning his eyes to Yuugi, he noted that Juudai had covered up what little had been visible. Juudai seemed to understand his silence, though. He cleared his throat, shuffling on the table and sighing.

“Yuugi's tapped out,” Juudai said. “He's just replenishing himself. He'll be fine when he wakes up. Can't let him do magic, though.”

“Why is that?” Yuusei asked.

“Because he might go back to this again,” Juudai said, indicating his covered and sleeping brother. “He needs to take it easy.”

“Makes sense,” Yuusei said, and Juudai looked at him closely. He tilted his head in consideration.

“You know, you look familiar,” Juudai said thoughtfully, lifting a hand to his chin. “Have we met before today?”

“I don't think so,” Yuusei carefully replied.

“Must've been in my dreams then,” Juudai joked, pointing two finger guns at him.

Taking a steadying breath, Yuusei shook his head. Against his will, he found himself responding.

“The brain is incapable of creating faces from nothing,” Yuusei said solemnly. “So even if you did dream about me, you must have seen my face somewhere to do so.”

At his words, Juudai's smile turned strained and his arms wilted to settle in his lap. He laughed halfheartedly, disbelief raising his eyebrows.

“You say it so seriously,” Juudai muttered, smiling at Yuusei's affirmative nod. He cleared his throat, poking at a spot on his chin. “I really think I've seen you before, though,” he said soberly. “You ever been to the Witch's Menagerie?”

“No,” Yuusei said. When Juudai continued to watch him with apparent expectancy, he added a light shrug. “Never been.”

“Ever order something from there?” Juudai tried, and Yuusei shook his head. “Pass by?” Juudai asked, and he frowned when Yuusei shook his head again. “Been in the area?”

“I spend most of my time at work,” Yuusei finally said, and Juudai motioned for him to continue. “The auto shop.”

Juudai's face brightened then and he smacked his fist against his palm.

“I've been there!” Juudai said excitedly. “I go once a month to deliver Jackman's hair junk. That's where I might'a seen you!”

“Oh,” Yuusei said, and his shoulders lowered minutely. “You're the delivery boy who shouts 'Jackman' every month.” He nodded. “I've never actually seen your face and I didn't recognize your voice without the yelling.”

A blush filled Juudai's cheeks and his expression turned pained.

“Delivery boy?” Juudai whined. “Oh, _come on_ – I'm supposed to be the Transporter.”

“Transporter?” Yuusei echoed.

“You know,” Juudai said obviously. He stood up and struck a side pose, forming a handgun with his hand and adopting a serious look. “The Transporter?” He dropped the stance, waving encouragingly at Yuusei and waiting.

However, Yuusei did not have a clue what Juudai was talking about. He watched Juudai falter, reaching up to scratch at his head in thought.

“Frank Martin?” Juudai attempted. “Badass in a suit who delivers goods without questions and shoots people?” He paused again, waiting and eyebrows dancing, but Yuusei merely shrugged at him.

Juudai's mouth fell open.

“You don't know Jason Statham?” Juudai said incredulously.

“Oh,” Yuusei said, nodding. “He's cool.”

“I know!” Juudai despaired. He groaned, rubbing at his face. “That's supposed to be me.”

“You shoot people?” Yuusei said, and Juudai slapped a palm to his forehead.

“No,” he muttered morosely. He sighed, turning to Yuugi and dropping his hand. “Yuugi calls me Statham sometimes,” he said quietly. He sat back down, staring at the lump beneath the covers.

“If it's not rude to ask,” Yuusei said slowly, “why is his blood blue?”

Juudai immediately stiffened. He lifted his gaze to Yuusei, his back straightening sharply. He shrugged.

“It's not,” Juudai said, thought the deliberately offhanded way he said it made it an obvious lie.

Yuusei took a seat next to Juudai, bracing his elbows on his knees. Beside him, Juudai was squirming.

“It's alright if you can't tell me,” Yuusei said. “You don't have to.” He felt more than saw Juudai begin to relax. “But Atemu already confirmed that the blood magic on the door is Yuugi's.”

Next to Yuusei, Juudai's body sagged with exasperation.

“Damn Atemu,” Juudai muttered. “Of course he spilled the _frijoles.”_ He sighed heavily, turning to Yuusei and staring at him firmly. It was quite a contrast from the goofy Juudai of earlier. “You gotta promise you won't tell anyone,” he said. “Not a lot of people know about Yuugi.”

“I won't say anything,” Yuusei promised.

“Yuugi's half fae,” Juudai said. “Fairy, but don't say that word to Yuugi. He doesn't like it.”

“Fae?” Yuusei said, his brow furrowing. “As in _fair folk?”_ He looked at Yuugi. “Like Tinker Bell?”

Juudai scoffed loudly.

“How do you know Tinker Bell, but you don't know The Transporter?” Juudai said, baffled. “Seriously?”

“She's an engineer,” Yuusei said as though that explained it. For a moment, Juudai flailed his limbs in bewilderment before dropping all movement and laughing.

“You confuse and excite me,” Juudai said, staring at him in wonder.

Brow creasing, Yuusei recalled Atemu's words in that moment. He could not hide as Atemu had said. Remaining silent was the same as hiding. He had to be vocal. Taking a deep breath, he met Juudai's gaze.

“I'm uncomfortable,” Yuusei said.

“Did I say that out loud?” Juudai asked, and he chuckled nervously when Yuusei nodded. “I'm sorry, dude. Since Yuugi can read my mind, I just say everything that comes to my head.” He winced. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I'm really sorry.”

“I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to reply to anything you say,” Yuusei admitted, clasping his hands together. “I'm flattered, but I'm also embarrassed. You're very forward.” He looked at the fireplace beyond the sofa, watching the flaming wood crackle and pop.

“I'll tone it down,” Juudai said, ducking his head and patting his knees. “Some things might slip out, though.”

“Thanks,” Yuusei said. He paused before he added, “For the compliments too.”

Juudai breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“You're welcome,” Juudai nodded. He sheepishly smiled, reaching back to grasp his neck as he debated his next words. “Uh, also, you wanna maybe go out on a date sometime?”

Yuusei turned to look at him amusement tilting up the edge of his lips.

“I think that may be inappropriate under the circumstances,” he said, motioning to Yuugi.

Juudai's cheeks turned pink with mortification. He slumped, arm dropping to his lap once more.

“Oh, right,” Juudai said, and he dropped his gaze. “The thing that's after your brother. Sorry.”

“Perhaps when we resolve this situation,” Yuusei said, turning his gaze upon Juudai, “we could have that date.”

“Wha – really?” Juudai asked, head perking up and eyes sparkling.

But before Yuusei could reply, the form on the couch stirred for the first time in hours, a low groan leaving it.

“I think your brother's awake.”

* * *

Showering was a particularly painful affair. Atemu had severely underestimated just how awful the sting of soap would feel in his wound. With clenched teeth, Atemu squeezed his eyes shut and powered through, determined to clean himself. When he was done, he sat on the edge of the tub, breathing harshly. His head was spinning and his body ached all over, weak and frail. Never before in his life had Atemu felt so helpless, sitting on the edge of the tub and trying to gather the strength to stand. His body shivered and he sighed.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and stood. Grabbing a towel from the small shelf above the toilet, he began to dry his body, patting lightly at his chest. His wound stung and throbbed in protest, and he looked down, surprised to see that it was not bleeding as it should have been. Baffled, his thoughts jumped to Yuugi, to his special abilities, and he smiled wryly, attributing the curiosity to a spell.

When he finally strutted out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, he found his bedroom dark, empty of Yuusei, and pleasantly heated. Beyond the curtain-less bay windows, the night was quiet with only soft moans of the wind. Looking to the space heater, Atemu smiled, grateful that Yuusei had turned it on for him. He made to begin searching for clothes when he heard a commotion from below. Confused, Atemu focused his hearing, blinking in surprise when he heard Yuugi's voice.

“Move,” Yuugi was saying, “I need to –”

“Yuugi,” came Juudai's voice, “you just woke up –”

“Juudai,” Yuugi growled, cutting him off, “so help me, I will hex you if you don't move aside.”

“What are you doing?” said Yuusei's voice, “I thought you said we weren't supposed to let him do any magic –”

“Yeah,” Juudai said with a nervous laugh, “that was before he started threatening to hex me. Better move, dude, he's not kidding.” There was a sound of shuffling, footsteps, and it was quiet before Yuusei spoke again.

“He's done it before?” he asked.

“Yep,” Juudai sighed. “Gave me chicken pox. Learned the hard way not to get between Yuugi and his charges.” His voice changed then, sounding far-off. “I still remember the itching.”

“Charges?” Yuusei questioned, and Juudai cleared his throat.

“Yuugi has this annoying habit,” Juudai said, “where he'll take in wounded animals and folk alike.” He sighed. “I wouldn't mind that he likes helping people so much, if only he didn't heal them until he's exhausted. Healing takes a lot of magic.”

“So,” Yuusei said and Atemu could almost hear the smirk in his voice, “he's not just doing it because he's got a hopeless crush on my brother?”

 _What?_ Atemu thought sharply. His heart skipped a beat and his breath hitched as his thoughts raced with disbelief.

“Oh, that's totally part of it,” Juudai laughed, “how did you know –”

A knock echoed through Atemu's ears, ripping him from his eavesdropping. Abruptly, he was brought back to his immediate surroundings. Looking up, he saw Yuugi standing uncertainly in the doorway of his bedroom, hand on the doorknob. A messenger bag hung off his shoulder and under his arm was a first aid kit. There was blood staining the knees of his jeans.

“Can I come in?” Yuugi asked and Atemu noted with puzzlement, that the pink hue had returned to his skin. Gone was the peculiar blue from before.

“Sure,” Atemu said, clearing his throat, “I was just getting dressed.”

“I'm sorry,” Yuugi said suddenly, his cheeks reddening, “I knocked, but you didn't answer.”

“It's fine,” Atemu shrugged. He picked through his clothes in the dresser, plucking out a pair of underwear and jeans to wear. Pulling them on under the towel, he looked back to Yuugi who was politely looking away, the flush of his cheeks apparent. He purposely ignored the flush, his eyes focusing on the first aid kit once more.

 _Here to bandage me up,_ Atemu concluded.

“Yes,” Yuugi said before he fidgeted, “but, if you want, I know some healers in the area.” He tentatively looked around, relief crossing his features when he saw Atemu was semi-dressed. “Well, not exactly _in_ the area. They're in the city, but they can make it here pretty fast. They're witches who specialize in healing magic –”

“No,” Atemu said, cutting him off.

“They'd be able to fix you up quickly,” Yuugi tried again and Atemu looked to him with a sharp gaze.

“No,” he repeated, “I don't know them – don't trust them.” He meant to leave it at that, matter closed and done with, but Yuugi spoke again.

“But you trust me?” Yuugi said with a tinge of dubiety.

“Yeah,” Atemu said, completely serious. He pretended he did not hear Yuugi's heart skipping a beat. “I do.”

“Oh,” Yuugi said and he fell silent.

Nodding, Atemu made his way to the bed, clearing the stool of its bottles and motioning to it.

“Sorry about the mess,” Atemu said, “I wasn't expecting company.” But Yuugi did not even bother to glance around the room when he shrugged.

“It's alright,” he replied. He slowly made his way over where Atemu waited and set the kit down on the stool Atemu had intended he use as a seat. With him, came that same scent of lavender from before. Yuugi motioned Atemu to sit, and only when Atemu finally sat at the edge of his bed, did Yuugi kneel and reach out a hand to hover over his chest. Straightening minutely, Atemu watched as Yuugi closed his eyes, starting in surprise when he felt Yuugi's magic, like a buzzing heat against his skin.

“I'm checking for residual dark magic,” Yuugi murmured in explanation, “there's only a little from what I can tell, but it's still going to inhibit your healing.” Opening his eyes, Yuugi lifted the flap of his bag to pull out a jar of mushy green goop that was already bothering Atemu's nose. It was sharp, tangy, but also smelled of plant mush – disgusting. He rubbed at his nose, annoyed.

“This will help,” Yuugi said as he held it up, “it'll suck out the magic that's stopping you from healing and lessen the pain.” Unscrewing the lid, Atemu's face contorted and Yuugi laughed. “Sorry,” he said, “it's a bit strong.”

 _A bit?_ Atemu thought in annoyance. Again, Yuugi laughed, giving Atemu a bright smile that showed all of his teeth. Yuugi's two front teeth were larger than his other incisors and Atemu found himself grinning against his will at the image of a rabbit that suddenly came to mind. _He's got bunny teeth,_ he thought idly.

Just as quickly as the thought came, Yuugi was blushing to the tips of his ears and pursing his lips shut, averting his eyes in embarrassment.

“Oh, uh,” Atemu faltered, “I wasn't – it's not a bad thing. I'm not laughing.” He frowned to himself, struggling to find a way to explain that he was not making fun of Yuugi. But he hissed in pain as Yuugi plied the goo to his chest and his apology was forgotten. He looked down with a grimace, the smell permeating his nose with a vengeance. He turned his face away and sneezed, his wound twinging in pain. The goo was cold and unpleasant and by the pinched look on Yuugi's face, he was not the only one who thought so.

“Sorry,” Yuugi said, wincing sympathetically, “you'll be a little uncomfortable.”

 _As long as it works,_ Atemu thought.

“It will,” Yuugi said, “you probably won't even scar – I might not be great at healing, but my potions and poultices are a work of art.” Yuugi winked for extra effect and Atemu felt rather amused to see it.

“Not important,” Atemu said, “it's not like I'm a model.” There was a lull in the application of the poultice, causing Atemu to look at Yuugi, startled to find Yuugi staring at him, a twinge of skepticism on his lips. “What?” he asked.

A bright red filled Yuugi's cheeks and he abruptly shifted his hand, accidentally swiping a finger through the wound. Atemu hissed in pain and his eyes watered. Closing them, he pursed his lips and pushed Yuugi's hand away, a long guttural groan leaving him.

“Sorry!” Yuugi apologized, “I'm sorry!”

“Hell,” Atemu muttered, doubling over in pain, “Yuugi, that really hurt.”

“Oh, my god,” Yuugi fretted, “Atemu, I'm really sorry.”

“What the hell did you even do that for?” Atemu griped, attempting to breathe through the sting.

“I was distracted,” Yuugi mumbled, “you startled me.”

“I _startled_ you,” Atemu said with a disbelieving laugh, “you've got to be kidding me. I'm probably bleeding –”

“You're not,” Yuugi said, “I cast a spell to stop you from bleeding out any more than you already had.” He sighed. “It'll undo itself with the poultice, though.”

“Haven't you been using a little too much magic?” Atemu asked as he raised his head, recalling Juudai's words as Yuugi's blue skin flashed in his mind's eye. Yuugi's lips pressed together firmly. “I don't know much about witches or witch stuff,” Atemu admitted, “but shouldn't you watch it? Your brother said you haven't been sleeping well or –”

“Juudai worries too much,” Yuugi said dismissively.

“That's what family does,” Atemu said pointedly and a wry smile pulled at Yuugi's lips.

“You're right,” he said softly, “now sit up straight, I need to finish fixing you up before that poultice undoes my spell.”

Straightening, Atemu reluctantly let Yuugi finish applying the poultice. In order to distract himself from the pain and discomfort, he watched Yuugi, noting for the first time that Yuugi was no longer wearing his eyeliner or his spiked dog collar. Somehow, his clothes seemed rather plain without them. He wore the same clothing as the day before, a black shirt and jeans. He frowned, surprised by how young Yuugi seemed without his getup. Almost too young to be out without his parents' permission.

As Yuugi laid a thin bandage over his wound, he thought about asking – picking his words carefully.

“Twenty,” Yuugi said abruptly, “I'm twenty.”

Atemu said nothing and Yuugi began to wind bandages around him, taking care not to wind them too tight. In silence, Yuugi worked and Atemu let out a breath, unable to continue holding it in. He breathed then and the scent of Yuugi's magic swam through his senses. Underneath the smell of soft lavender, his magic smelled like the scent of the earth after it rained, yet electric, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck. It was tempting, calling Atemu to take a deeper breath, to press his nose into Yuugi's hair and really take his scent in. But that would be inappropriate and Yuugi was no werewolf – unused to the ways of his kind where they could freely scent each other. But even then, only personal relationships allowed such familiarity.

He settled for breathing deeply, but regretted the action almost instantly when the stench of the poultice filled his nose and lungs. Turning his head away, Atemu coughed.

“Sorry,” he said and he felt his cheeks heat with shame, “that stuff –”

“It's alright,” Yuugi said, “I get it.” He smiled something gentle and sweet, his violet eyes honest and open. There was a tenderness to Yuugi's expression that Atemu had never noticed before. It made his stomach squirm and his hands sweat. He did not like it. It made him nervous. At the realization, Atemu felt his heart rate pick up and there was a rushing in his ears, like vertigo inverting his world and spinning it in circles.

 _Well, shit,_ he thought, _that was … unexpected._ As Yuugi finished tying off the end of the bandage, he looked up with confusion and Atemu felt anxious. Gulping dryly, his immediate desire was push Yuugi away and put lots of space between them. But as soon as he thought it, Atemu silently rejected it. He was being ridiculous. No doubt, Yuugi could hear his thoughts and was wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Scoffing lightly, Atemu relaxed. Yuugi would either hear what he was thinking or he would not, and Atemu could not care less. He had nothing to apologize for.

Abruptly, Yuugi turned his face away and sneezed, huffing in annoyance.

“Everything okay?” Atemu asked.

“Fine,” Yuugi said, sniffing as he moved aside. He began to put away his things with a sigh. “The poultice just makes me foggy – lucky for you,” he said, “and it makes my allergies act up if I'm around it for too long.”

“Lucky for me?” Atemu questioned and Yuugi shrugged with a wry smile.

“I can't hear your thoughts anymore,” he explained, “that stuff is really potent. It stunts magic, which would be great, only it doesn't just stop the mind-reading. It blocks _all_ my magic.”

 _Huh,_ Atemu thought with a frown. He was not entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He settled for indifference. He watched Yuugi as he pulled the messenger's strap onto his shoulder, ready to stand and leave. But before he could, Atemu stopped him with a hand on his arm. Freezing in place, Yuugi looked up at him, eyes wide.

“Yuugi,” Atemu said and Yuugi absently licked his lips, staring at him intently with bated breath. “Thank you,” Atemu said and Yuugi let out a whoosh of air as he laughed, nodding.

“Sure,” he said, waving a hand, “it's really not a big deal, it's nothing –”

“You can't lie to a werewolf, Yuugi,” Atemu scolded.

“No, I can't,” Yuugi admitted, a sheepish smile pulling at his lips, “sorry. Though I'm really glad Juudai hasn't figured out how to do that – he'd kill me if he figured out it was actually me who ate all the coconut macaroons.” He laughed nervously and Atemu sighed.

“Yuugi,” he said, “you need rest.”

“I'm fine,” Yuugi protested, but he sighed and shrugged, “alright, I can't lie, I'm tired” – he yawned then – “but there's things to do. I need to finish placing runes and –”

“Yuugi,” Atemu said, exasperated, “you need to stop and rest. Your brother said you needed it and Yuusei told me about the blood magic. If you end up dying because of this, I couldn't – because of me, that's...” But Atemu had no way of finishing his sentence. He sighed, parting his lips as though to say more, but he shook his head and Yuugi tentatively reached out, touching his knee.

“Atemu,” Yuugi said gently, “you're very sweet, but I'm a grown-ass adult and I can make my own decisions.” Standing, Yuugi was ready to walk out of the room, but Atemu was not done.

“Yuugi, your skin was _blue,”_ he snapped and Yuugi froze, turning to stare at him with wide plum-colored eyes. “What?” Atemu said, standing from the bed. “Nothing to say?”

Gulping, Yuugi shrugged.

“You're annoying,” Yuugi said glumly, turning his face away, “it's not a bad thing. I'm fae after all – blue is my normal.”

“You were too exhausted to keep up your glamour, I've figured out that much,” Atemu replied, ignoring Yuugi's flinch. He motioned to the mattress. “So rest,” he said, “and we'll figure this out later … not that it even concerns you –”

“Juudai and I will help you whether you like it or not,” Yuugi said and he rubbed at his eyes, sighing, “but alright, fine – you want me to sleep, I'll sleep.” Walking over to the bed, Yuugi sat with a soft noise. He laid down and Atemu could see his exhaustion in his every motion. As he watched, Atemu was certain that Yuugi was asleep even before his head touched the pillow. Slowly, he removed the messenger bag, setting it aside, and quietly draped his blankets over Yuugi. His brow scrunched as his eyes rested on Yuugi's face. His stomach flipped and Atemu stood up.

He had noticed it before, but briefly. Now that he was still, he recognized it with more clarity. Yuugi truly did not look all that bad. If he dared admit it, Atemu would go as far as to say that Yuugi was easy on the eyes.

Frowning, he shook his head from the thought. There was no denying that the more he learned about Yuugi, the more he liked him as a person. It annoyed Atemu endlessly.

He had gone from detesting Yuugi to grudgingly respecting him, to outright liking him in less than three days. By his calculations, it would not be long before Atemu considered Yuugi a friend and not a nuisance. Sighing, Atemu brushed the hair away from Yuugi's eyes and walked over to his dresser. He grabbed a long-sleeved forest-green shirt and pulled it on. Once dressed, he left the room, closing the door behind him and venturing downstairs.

When he arrived at the bottom step, it was to find Juudai smiling flirtatiously at Yuusei, both hands pointing at him in the form of finger guns. Unlike before, however, there was no sign of Yuusei's discomfort. In fact, as they drank coffee at the table Yuusei seemed quite at ease with Juudai's flirting, a small smile quirking a corner of his lips. It seemed while Yuugi had been with him, something had transpired down below.

It was gross.

Rolling his eyes, Atemu announced his presence by clearing his throat. But instead of being surprised or embarrassed, both looked up at him and Yuusei winked.

 _Well, that was quick,_ Atemu thought with slight irritation. It figured that Yuusei would have no trouble in the department of love. Yuusei, though quiet and reserved, wore his heart on his sleeve and refused to pretend otherwise. Unlike Atemu, Yuusei had no trouble accepting his feelings and running with them like a kid with scissors. The comparison felt just, as Atemu sincerely felt that if one tripped on the track of love, they could very well be impaled with scissors … metaphorically speaking.

It was a damned good thing that Atemu did not have to worry about falling in love.

“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” Atemu asked. He could not help but feel a little resentful and envious of Yuusei's ease with life.

“Totally,” Juudai responded, sneaking a glance at Yuusei. “I'm definitely winning your brother over with my awesome jokes.”

“They're actually pretty terrible,” Yuusei voiced, but Juudai laughed and looked back at Atemu, brown eyes shining.

“Where's Yuugi?” he asked.

“Sleeping,” Atemu said shortly, “he was tired and pushing himself too much.”

“Good,” Juudai said with a sigh before abruptly staring at Atemu, eyes wide, “wait, _where_ is he sleeping?”

“My room,” Atemu answered carefully.

“Like … on your bed?” Juudai asked, astonished.

“Yeah,” Atemu said, eyes narrowed, “is that a problem?” Though he meant it as an actual question, Atemu was sure it came off more hostile than anything.

“Uh, no problem,” Juudai said with a nervous shrug, “it's just … I might only be half a werewolf, but I seriously can't handle other people sleeping on my bed. It's like a territory thing – not to mention the smell. Jesus, I can't handle smelling anything that isn't me in my bed – is it different for you? I mean, not to mention, your bed is gonna smell like flowers and – that smell that comes off the ground after it rains? It's gonna smell like that for like a _month_ – did for me. My bed smelled like a damn meadow –”

“Petrichor,” Atemu murmured softly, “it's called petrichor.” He felt his hackles rise in indignation when both Juudai and Yuusei stared at him with raised eyebrows. He disliked it and heavily wished for them to stop.

“So,” Yuusei said, brow furrowed with feigned betrayal, “you're letting him sleep in your bed when you've bitched at me for so much as touching it?” He took his coffee and a smirk pulled at his lips, revealing his amusement. “And I grew up with you, you asshole,” he said and he sipped at his coffee, no longer bothering to hide his humor. At Yuusei's words, Juudai perked up, a large grin spreading across his cheeks. Atemu very much wanted to drown Yuusei in the well behind his house. However, considering it was most likely frozen over, Atemu would settle for drowning him in his coffee cup.

Without a word, he went back to the tea Yuugi had made him and frowned when he felt it was cold. Turning to Juudai, Atemu held up his mug, watching as Juudai and Yuusei mouthed words to each other and feeling more surly by the second.

“Can I reheat this or will doing that ruin the tea?”

“You can reheat it,” Juudai said brightly and Atemu turned away to do as much. “And also,” Juudai added slyly, “you have my permission to date my brother.”

It was only because of Atemu's supernatural reflexes, that he managed to catch his mug before it completely slipped out of his hands.

_What in the fuck?_

Glancing at Juudai, he scowled and went about, reheating his tea in silence. He could feel both of their gazes on him, but he absolutely refused to turn around. He would not give Juudai and Yuusei the satisfaction of a reply.

“I brought food,” Juudai said then. “Thought I could make dinner maybe? If that's okay with you, Atemu.”

“Go ahead,” Atemu replied indifferently. “Just clean up after yourself.”

“Yes!” Juudai cheered. “Yuugi _never_ lets me cook. Awesome.”

An ominous shiver snaked down Atemu's spine at that. Somehow, he felt he had just committed a huge mistake. Raising his head, he stared at the ceiling and closed his eyes, praying to whatever higher power there was.

_Don't let Juudai burn down my house._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's still slow-going, but I'm updating as fast as I can. Are y'all as excited as me?


	9. Big, Scary Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After waking, Yuugi gets to work on figuring out the mystery threat. To Yuugi's chagrin, Juudai lightens the mood by using what little filter he has. Meanwhile, Atemu is increasingly intrigued and baffled by all that is Yuugi, and exercising avoidance like it was an Olympic sport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters have been low-key. I urge you to enjoy the peace. ♡

It was eleven in the evening, and Atemu found himself sitting at his kitchen table, looking down at something that Juudai had assured him was “dinner”. It looked like a ritualistically-sacrificed chicken had been thrown into the very bowels of hell and left to cook for a century. The result on his plate was a chiseled piece from the charred bird that Atemu swore was still smoldering. Beside it was a pile of watery rice and next to that, were soggy vegetables that were a slight disturbance away from collapsing into mush. Overall, it was a highly questionable meal, and the strong stench of it greatly offended Atemu's nose. His only reprieve from feeling too judgmental was Yuusei's equally dubious frown.

“Come on, guys,” Juudai said, sitting between them with his own plate of horrors, “it can't be that bad.”

“Juudai,” Yuusei said quietly, “mine is still smoking.”

Atemu nodded and quietly pushed his plate away, regretting ever having let Juudai into his kitchen. He eyed the dishes piled in the sink with distaste, knowing he would have to end up scrubbing them to get rid of the foulness seared upon their surfaces. Abruptly, he lifted his head, eyes looking up to the ceiling.

“It's supposed to do that,” Juudai said nervously to Yuusei. “At least try it? I used magic to make it cook faster. I just … left it in a little too long.”

“What kind of magic did you use exactly?” Yuusei questioned, giving the chicken a tentative poke with his fork. “This looks like black magic.”

“It's not bla – wait, was that a joke?” Juudai asked excitedly. He turned to Atemu. “He made a joke!” Noting Atemu's distraction, he looked at the ceiling as well. “Wha-cha looking at?” he asked, and Atemu dropped his gaze to the plate before him, eyes fixed upon the blackened poultry.

He did not answer.

“I don't understand why you're so surprised,” Yuusei said.

“Jesus, Juudai,” came Yuugi's voice, and Atemu did not bother to look up, “the smell of that could wake the dead.” Yuusei and Juudai looked around to see Yuugi entering the living room, yawning heavily.

Atemu did not raise his head until Yuugi had crossed into the kitchen. When he did, his eyes roamed Yuugi, taking in his ruffled and languid disposition. He looked much better than before, though his eyes were still puffy with sleep. His hair was mussed on one side that he suddenly seemed conscious of as he raised a hand to smooth it out.

“Alright,” Yuugi said, “who's the genius that let Juudai cook?” He stopped short at the table and Yuusei lifted a hand to point a finger Atemu's way. When Yuugi turned to look at him, Atemu stared down at his food with a scowl – he had been the moron who had allowed Juudai into his kitchen.

“Oh, come on,” Juudai complained in a mutter, “it's not that bad.”

“Well,” Yuugi said softly, “we all make mistakes.” With that, he gathered the plates and walked over to the bin that sat at the end of the kitchen counter, dumping the contents in and setting the plates aside. Juudai made an offended noise in his throat before sighing in defeat. “Good with magic,” Yuugi said, “but a terrible cook.”

“Well,” Juudai said, considering, before he shrugged and nodded, “no, yeah, that's true.”

“Alright,” Atemu said, standing from the table, “I'll go for dinner –”

“No!” Yuugi suddenly cried, and the three men looked at him in shock. Instantly, Yuugi became embarrassed, his cheeks reddening. Clearing his throat nervously, he said, “Sorry.” Then he turned to Atemu, though his eyes were averted. “You can't go,” he said, “you're still weak from the curse and –”

“I'm a werewolf, Yuugi,” Atemu said, relaxing from where he had tensed at Yuugi's shout. He sighed. “I'll be fine.”

“No, you won't,” Yuugi denied, and he raised his head to look Atemu directly in the eyes. “You can't keep taking this so lightly. There's someone out there who wants to kill you and you're in no condition to fight anything right now.”

Annoyed, Atemu opened his mouth to speak, but Yuusei stood from his side of the table, nodding.

“I agree,” Yuusei said and turned his eyes to Yuugi, “by the way, I'm Yuusei, in case you didn't recognize me.” He held out a hand which Yuugi promptly shook. “Didn't get a chance to introduce myself earlier when you woke up.” It only took a look for Yuugi to smile in recognition.

“You're the cat,” he said, “I'm Yuugi, nice to meet you in human form.”

“Cat?” Juudai spoke up in confusion.

“I'm a shapeshifter,” Yuusei explained, “and your brother first met me as a cat.”

“Dude,” Juudai said, eyes sparkling with interest, “I thought you were a werewolf! What else can you turn into?”

“Most animals,” Yuusei said with a shrug. “There's certain animals I can't transform into. Invertebrates, for one – others are harder, reptiles, amphibians, fish being especially challenging. I mostly do mammals and birds."

“What about magical creatures?” Juudai asked.

“If I know what it looks like, sure,” Yuusei said. “Might take me a couple of tries, though. First time I tried to go unicorn, I ended up with half the horn length. But folk can spot me as a fake. I have better luck with non-magical animals when I have to be incognito.”

“Oh,” Juudai said in awe, “can I see –”

“Juudai, we need to focus right now,” Yuugi interrupted, “we need to figure out who attacked Atemu.”

“Actually, we need food,” Atemu mumbled, rubbing his stomach as he sat back down.

“Way ahead of you,” Juudai said to Yuugi, pulling a vial of reddish-brown, rust-colored liquid from his jean pocket. “Atemu wasn't the only one wounded.” The glass was stoppered and Atemu could not smell anything from it.

“You've been busy,” Yuugi remarked, taking the vial from Juudai's hand.

“I found it close to where he was attacked,” Juudai said, and when Atemu looked at him curiously, he further explained, “I was looking for clues, because you said you didn't see what it was, and I found that covered in snow.”

Yuugi looked closely at the vial and turned to Atemu.

“Atemu,” he said, “do you mind if we use your kitchen to figure out who this belongs to? I promise we'll clean up.”

Atemu simply shrugged in answer. His kitchen had already been violated once, what did it matter to him if they did it again.

“Sure,” he said gruffly, “but someone still needs to get some _edible food.”_

“I'll do it,” Yuusei said. “Nothing's after me.” He made his way to the coat rack next to the kitchen door, moved there by Yuusei from its original position in the foyer. He grabbed a brown coat from it, slipping it on. Atemu recognized it as his own and grimaced.

“You really need to stop taking my things,” Atemu said sorely.

“And you need to stop pissing people off enough to want to kill you,” Yuusei retorted evenly before speaking to the room at large. “So what are we craving?”

“We're not picky,” Juudai said as he began to scrub the dishes in the sink. Beside him, Yuugi was peering into the paper bags, pulling bundles from within. “Just don't bring any cream,” Juudai snorted, and Yuugi huffed indignantly as he began to unwrap them, revealing a variety of dried plants, jars with miscellaneous powders and liquids, and other objects from within them. He began to tear pieces off plants and threw pinches of powder from several jars into the bowl. “For me,” Juudai continued, “fried shrimp would be nice – or just fried fish stuffs in general.”

Atemu lifted his gaze to Yuugi who now had a glass bowl set up on his spotless kitchen counter, filled with plants that chafed at his senses.

“Cream?” he questioned, and Juudai began to snigger as Yuugi blushed, stilling before lightly kicking Juudai in the shin.

“I'm lactose intolerant,” Yuugi mumbled.

“Why did that sound like a lie?” Atemu voiced, and a rampant blush stole across Yuugi's cheeks. Beside him, Juudai snorted loudly.

“Did you use a containing spell?” Yuugi pointedly directed at Juudai, desperately trying to ignore Atemu's inquiring gaze and Juudai's snickering. “I can't smell anything from it.”

“Yeah,” Juudai said, “it smelled like rotten meat. It was gross.” He then turned to Atemu with a grin. “And to answer your question –”

“Juudai!” Yuugi hissed, pulling on his sleeve.

“It might as well be vodka,” Juudai laughed, and Yuugi sighed heavily. He turned to see Atemu staring at him and he avoided his eyes. Facing his set up once more, Yuugi cleared his throat.

“Anything with lactose is generally a bad idea for fae,” Yuugi reluctantly explained, “it's the same as alcohol for us – I may only be half, but apparently it's the half that gets inebriated by dairy products.” He scowled at Juudai, pursing his lips. “It actually takes more than a typical serving to _have_ an effect, but Juudai loves to make fun of me for it.”

“So he _is_ technically lactose intolerant,” Juudai laughed, and Yuugi let out a loud, put-upon sigh.

“Got it,” Yuusei said, “no dairy.” He nudged Atemu, who was still gazing at Yuugi. “Atemu, anything in particular?”

“No,” Atemu said as he stood from the table, averting his gaze to the window. He could hear Yuugi whispering to himself.

“If it smells like rotten meat,” Yuugi murmured, “then I should try … _this_ first.” He heard Yuugi grab a container and pop it open. He added a pinch of it to the rest of the ingredients, and Atemu looked at Yuusei.

“Just as long as you get me two of everything,” he requested. When all Yuusei did was raise an eyebrow at him, Atemu huffed. “I'm hungry,” he defended. “Also, I died recently. I think I deserve as much as I want –”

“Yuugi?” Juudai said, and the worry in his voice caused the two brothers to look around, only to see a black and yellow flame in the bowl. The expression on Yuugi's face was nervous, almost afraid. “That's your uh-oh face, why are you doing the uh-oh face?” Juudai asked in a rush, “Yuugi – oh, sweet cheese and crackers and wine!”

Abruptly, Juudai covered his nose, coughing harshly as he leapt back and away from Yuugi and the flame. Atemu stared at him in surprise for only a second before he too caught the scent, an overpowering combination of rotten eggs and putrid flesh. His stomach heaved and Atemu slapped a hand over his mouth and nose, jumping away from the table and back. Atemu gagged on the stench, stumbling to the door to rip it open as Juudai darted to the window, unlocking it and throwing it up. They both stuck their heads out, breathing the cold night air and panting.

“What is it?” Yuusei asked from within and when Atemu turned to look at him, he saw Yuusei grimacing, mildly inconvenienced with a hand waving the air in front of his face. Atemu heavily envied his dulled senses in that moment. At the counter, Yuugi was quiet as he snuffed the flame, walking over to where Atemu stood and passing him as Atemu scrambled out of the way. He went right up to the tree line and just beyond it where Atemu heard him disposing of the disgusting concoction.

Behind Atemu, Juudai had moved into the kitchen and pinched his nose shut, nasally dispelling the horrid odor with his magic. Atemu could feel the smelly breeze blow past him to the outside. He was grateful for it, and he stood by the door, listening to the night for anything out of place. When Yuugi came back in, he went straight to the sink to wash the bowl, avoiding every gaze upon him.

“Yuugi?” Atemu called quietly, stepping closer to him, and Yuugi did not speak. Instead, he finished what he was doing and set the bowl aside to dry. He turned then, whipping out a hand and a muttered word from his lips. Atemu jumped, hackles rising as both the window and door slammed shut, the locks turning in place.

“Necromancy,” Yuugi said before Atemu could demand an explanation. Juudai's eyes widened and his mouth parted in disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?” Juudai said. “It was a zombie?”

_Zombie?_ Atemu thought with confusion, his thoughts whirling.

“A ghoul,” Yuugi corrected, “since it consumes dead flesh, it's susceptible to the Call. I –”

“The Call?” Atemu echoed in confusion, gazing at Yuugi, but it was Juudai who answered him.

“The Call is what we call the ritual to raise the dead – or what eats the dead,” he said with a grimace. “Gross. Takes a real powerful being to reanimate the dead, not so much to control ghouls.”

“Ghouls eat the dead?” Atemu asked, his stomach turning in revulsion and his hunger dissipating.

“Ghouls are cannibalistic humans or witches that sought immortality by consuming dead people, so stay out of the graveyard at night,” Juudai said. “They're kinda like a Wendigo, but not a Wendigo. They can't be controlled by the Call. Also, a Wendigo kills living people, and not for immortality. Just because they're evil and want to eat humans.” Juudai shuddered and when Yuugi looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he smiled and said, “See, I _do_ pay attention.” He looked at Atemu.

“Ghouls don't eat living people, but they're really territorial,” Juudai continued on his vein of lecture. “They attack if you get too close when they're feeding.” He shrugged. “Which they do at night.” Turning his face to the window, he motioned to it. “Like now.”

“Thank you for the lesson, Juudai, but our problem isn't necessarily the ghoul,” Yuugi said. “I'd like to say it acted alone and we don't really have to worry about it, but –”

“Necromancy means it's controlled,” Juudai supplied, and Yuugi gave him a look that was equal parts exasperated and fond, “so that means the ghoul might be hurt, but the controller? Not so much … perfect.” Juudai's brow creased and he hummed in thought. “So we're dealing with a really bad witch or...” He trailed off, thinking hard and Yuugi finished his sentence.

“A demon,” Yuugi said.

“Demon?” Yuusei voiced disbelievingly. “Those are real?”

“Yes,” Yuugi affirmed, “they are. They're not all bad, but one who goes around doing spells like this isn't good. Necromancy is really taboo magic. Not for the fainthearted. I don't even have spellbooks for it. Whoever did this means business.”

“Well, that's great,” Atemu said with a sigh, “I've got a demon on my ass. Fantastic.”

“Maybe,” Juudai said, “could still be a witch.”

“I'm going to call my manager,” Yuusei suddenly said, standing. “I hope he's still awake. Something tells me I'm going to need a few days off.” He left the room then, moving away from them and into the living room as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

“What would a demon even want with me?” Atemu asked Yuugi, but Juudai was his answer yet again.

“Any of your family make a deal?” Juudai asked and Atemu looked at him with alarm.

“A deal?” Atemu echoed.

“A deal,” Juudai said. “Like they asked for something in exchange for something?” Juudai shrugged. “They usually come knocking for their payment. Or maybe you made one angry somehow.”

“You're joking,” Atemu said with a frown. He looked to Yuugi, but Yuugi was shaking his head. Atemu let out a whoosh of breath in disbelief, driving his hands through his hair. “This is insane,” he muttered.

“My amulet would have channeled the damage dealt to you through the magical connection between the ghoul and the controller,” Yuugi said. “It'll be enough to break the connection and disorient the controller, but –”

“But what?” Atemu reluctantly asked.

“If it's a demon,” Yuugi finally said, “it won't be down for long. If anything, my amulet only made it angry … it's probably already trying something else...” He trailed off before suddenly leaving the kitchen. Atemu followed only to see Yuugi pulling a pocket knife from his jeans as he approached the foyer. He pricked his finger and Atemu darted forward, grabbing his hand before Yuugi could touch the front door.

“What're you doing?” he demanded angrily. “More blood magic?” He pulled Yuugi roughly from the door, eyes narrowed. “No,” he said stiffly, jaw clenched.

“I'm just trying to protect your house,” Yuugi said, trying to pull his hand free from Atemu's iron-like grasp. “Those runes on your kitchen door won't be enough to stop a demon –”

“But you don't even know if that's what it is!” Atemu protested. “Can't you do some spell or something to confirm before you go and weaken yourself even more?”

“...I can't,” Yuugi said with a grimace, “but there may be someone I can contact. He's a witch who specializes in the darker aspects of magic –”

“Absolutely not,” Atemu said incredulously, “I'm not letting some dark witch into my home!”

“You're misunderstanding me,” Yuugi said calmly, taking a deep breath. “Ryou isn't a bad guy – he studies the darker side of magic to create better protection spells. He's also going to be much better help than me.” Yuugi's brow creased in distress and he bit at his lip. “All I know is basics,” he said. “I'm in way over my head with this. Honestly, I'm just a country witch. I do little things. I don't fight evil witches and demons!”

For a long moment, Atemu was silent. He stared at Yuugi, eyes narrowed and searching. Yuugi was agitated, his eyes wide and his pulse racing. Atemu could still feel him trying to wriggle out of his grip. He finally sighed.

“This witch,” he said, “do you trust him?”

“Yes,” Yuugi instantly responded, and Atemu loosened his grip on Yuugi's hand, relaxing only slightly.

“Fine,” he said, a begrudging tone in his voice, “call him.”

“Sure,” Yuugi said, though he grimaced, “but I need some stuff from my shop too. For protection spells – we'll be needing them.”

“So then we get the stuff,” Atemu said with a shrug and Yuugi's face grew pained.

“No,” he said, “it's too dangerous for you to go out defenseless.” At that, Atemu felt himself bristle indignantly.

“I'm a werewolf, Yuugi,” he snapped irately. “I'm not defenseless!”

“You're still recovering,” Yuugi said stubbornly. “If you couldn't stop a ghoul attack, what makes you think you can stop a demon?”

“So that automatically means you get to put yourself on the line?” Atemu barked. “This isn't even your problem!”

“You made it my problem when you decided to show up cursed in my shop!” Yuugi retorted. “I told you, I'm going to help you whether you like it or not!”

“Just because you fancy yourself in love with me, doesn't give you the right to act irrationally!” Atemu shouted before he could stop himself. Realizing what he said, he froze in place, staring at Yuugi who looked back at him with wide, plum-colored eyes, cheeks red and heart stuttering in his chest.

“Who –” Yuugi's voice trembled over the word and he bit at his lip, laughing uncomfortably with a creased brow. His eyes looked away from Atemu's, hiding his expression as he looked at the door. “Who even said I was in love with you?” he asked breathlessly. His bravado was quickly dissipating and his heart was beating so fast and panicked that Atemu almost let go of his wrist. “What kind of silly things are you getting into your head?” Yuugi asked, his blush spreading in flagrant mortification to his neck and ears. “I've never heard such a – don't be ridiculous.”

And though it was painfully obvious that Yuugi was fronting, Atemu let go of his wrist. His hand hung limply, forming a loose fist.

“Right,” he said, backtracking, “it's ridiculous … sorry. I don't know what made me say it.” Atemu cleared his throat and Yuugi did not look back to him. He said, “But, Yuugi, you can't just –” Abruptly, he stopped, whipping his head around to see both Juudai and Yuusei peeking at them from the living room. Upon being caught, Yuusei instantly pulled out of sight, grabbing Juudai by the collar of his shirt and tugging him to the kitchen. Grimacing, Atemu turned back to the matter at hand, trying to ignore the eavesdropping pair. Yuugi was staring hard at the door, and Atemu could smell his humiliation.

“You can't keep putting yourself at risk like this,” Atemu said, motioning to Yuugi's bleeding finger. “If you want to help me, you're doing it on my terms.” When Yuugi nodded, he took a breath. “And my terms include that you not put yourself in danger for me,” Atemu said. “Witch or demon, it's after _me_ and if it's going to kill someone, it's not gonna be – it'll be me.” Even when Atemu faltered, Yuugi did not look at him. But he heard Yuugi grit his teeth, and he saw that stubborn glint in his eyes that he was coming to recognize well. When Yuugi opened his mouth to protest, Atemu waved his words away with a hand. “Yuugi,” he said tiredly, “stop trying to argue with me … you so much as hurt a fingernail” – he pretended to glare – “and I'll tie you down.”

A disbelieving laugh left Yuugi, and Atemu reached out a hand. Tilting Yuugi's chin up, he watched as his humor vanished.

“I don't care if you're a badass witch,” Atemu said seriously, “I'll really do it.”

_I don't want you to get hurt._

He heard when Yuugi's heart skipped a beat and he removed his fingers from Yuugi's skin, dropping his hand. Breathing deeply, he caught the smell of Yuugi. That soft, familiar, lavender scent soothed him, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“Is there any other way to ward against this thing besides blood magic?” he asked, sidestepping the landmine he had accidentally laid. “Traps we could set?” He could feel Yuugi staring at him, his heart pounding, his breath caught in his lungs.

“That's what I need ingredients for,” Yuugi said softly. “More than what Juudai brought.”

With a single intake of breath, Atemu could almost taste the disappointment, longing, and worse still, hope, on his tongue. Gulping dryly, he steeled himself and looked back to Yuugi who was staring up at him with shining, violet eyes.

“Alright,” Atemu said, his tone brisk, “do that. Go … get them.” He made to turn away when Yuugi abruptly grabbed his arm, stopping him. When Atemu looked, Yuugi seemed to struggle with himself, his mouth forming pieces of soundless words and his eyes filled with untold emotion.

“A-Atemu, I –” Yuugi faltered, the words dying on his lips, and he sighed heavily. He turned his gaze to the ground, avoiding Atemu's.

“Send Juudai out for food,” he said, “my brother may be young, but he knows how to defend himself. Don't let Yuusei go.” He paused for a moment, hesitant. Atemu could smell his anxiety, his worry. He could read Yuugi's emotions as easily as he could a children's book. His nose caught every whiff and the scents put him on edge. They made his skin crawl impatiently as if he were failing to scratch at an itch that could not be reached. His hands clenched uselessly at his sides. “Better stay indoors until I get back,” Yuugi said. Frowning, Atemu felt his indignation flare.

“I'm –” Atemu began, but Yuugi cut him off.

“I know,” Yuugi said quickly, and Atemu knew Yuugi was hearing his thoughts, “you're not defenseless. You're a big, scary werewolf.” He smiled sheepishly when Atemu scowled at him. “Yes, that was a bit patronizing, I'm sorry. What I mean is – you might be strong, but physical strength is not enough to fight magic. You'll be at a disadvantage and it's not worth the risk for you to leave the house.” He paused then, running nervous fingers through his blonde bangs. “So just … stay?” It came out like a question and Yuugi looked uncertain, biting his bottom lip as he measured Atemu's expression. When Atemu did not respond, he sighed.

“Anyway,” Yuugi said, turning to the door, “I should get going before it gets any later.” As Yuugi made to open the door, Atemu stopped him with a hand.

“Uh,” Atemu's voice failed him then as Yuugi's bright, violet eyes fell upon him, questioning. He could hear Yuugi's heart begin to race all over again and Atemu was suddenly very aware of the soft skin underneath the warmth of his hand. Dropping his hold, he averted his eyes and whatever he had meant to say was gone in a whoosh of his breath as he quickly detoured. “Maybe you should change,” he said, “your clothes, that is.” He motioned to Yuugi's clothing, the blood stains that covered them in streaks. “They're stained with my blood,” he said, “and I'm sure you'll cause some alarm if someone sees you like that.”

Looking down at himself, Yuugi blinked in surprise before grimacing.

“I slept in your bed like this,” he said regretfully, “I'm sorry.”

“It's fine,” Atemu sighed with a wave of his hand, “it's my blood anyway and there's this amazing invention called a washing machine –”

“Alright, smartass,” Yuugi said with a begrudging grin, “but I don't actually have spare clothes –”

“I brought some with me!” called Juudai from the kitchen. Both Atemu and Yuugi looked in the direction of his voice before looking to each other. Atemu huffed a laugh and Yuugi soon uttered a chuckle of his own, even as his cheeks filled with color.

“Thank you,” Yuugi said. “Now quit eavesdropping. It's rude.”

“Sorry!” Juudai shouted, and Yuugi sighed.

“Anyway,” Yuugi said to Atemu, “I won't be long. Stay indoors and if you've got salt, especially sea salt, lay down some lines on the windowsills and doors. Don't let in anyone suspicious –”

“Obviously,” Atemu said, and Yuugi nodded, recognizing that he was telling Atemu things he already knew.

“Don't worry, Yuugi, I got his back!” Juudai called, and a red blush stole over Yuugi's cheeks once more.

“Juudai,” Yuugi groaned.

“Sorry!” Juudai called, “I'm still eavesdropping!”

_Is he always like this?_ Atemu suddenly voiced in his head and Yuugi looked at him in surprise before nodding with a smile. His cheeks were pink, but instead of embarrassed, Yuugi seemed oddly pleased.

_Makes me glad Yuusei doesn't have werewolf hearing,_ Atemu thought, and Yuugi chuckled. _I'm sure he'd be doing the same thing if he did._ When Yuugi's eyes crinkled in amusement and his lips perked up at the edges, Atemu abruptly turned his head away, gulping dryly. _You should hurry,_ he thought. Nodding, Yuugi made his way to the kitchen where Atemu heard him berate Juudai before asking for his clothes. Standing in the foyer, Atemu let out a slow breath, his palm touching the space over his rapidly-beating heart. Closing his eyes, he finally let himself think freely.

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not be trying to kill y'all.
> 
> What do you think?


	10. WOLVERINEROX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuugi is suddenly MIA, and Juudai and Atemu are frantic with worry. Yuusei tries his best to keep them level-headed until a surprise guest reveals more than they could have ever bargained for. Meanwhile, Yuugi is dealing with problems of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grab yourself some popcorn, buddy. The plot has arrived.

“He should've been back by now,” Juudai said nervously as he paced the kitchen floor. The table was covered in takeout boxes, none opened. Sitting near the food was Atemu, elbows resting on the wooden surface and chin perched on clenched knuckles. His brow was furrowed, eyes staring hard at a cup of cold tea, the very same Yuugi had sold him. Beside him stood Yuusei, leaning on the back of a chair as he watched Juudai pace.

Juudai strode to the door and brushed the curtain aside. He looked out into the dark and anxiously watched the trees.

“He should've been back by now,” he repeated for the tenth time. “I guess he could've been caught by grandpa, but then gramps would be blowing up my phone – and I'm definitely not calling _him.”_ Juudai stilled temporarily. “He'll kill us both.”

“Try calling Yuugi again,” Yuusei suggested, and Juudai went back to the table, grabbing his cellphone and quickly dialing. He picked up his pacing once more, unable to stand still. The room was quiet but for his footsteps and the steady ringing of his phone. It continued on until Yuugi's voicemail answered. Hanging up, Juudai cursed loudly before stuffing his phone into his pocket and plucking a white hoodie from the coat rack by the door.

“I'm going to look for him,” Juudai said, and Yuusei was instantly there at his side, grabbing his arm and halting his movements.

“Wait,” Yuusei said, “let's think this through first –”

“I'm going with you,” Atemu spoke up, and Yuusei turned to stare at him as Atemu stood from the table.

“Atemu, wait –”

“Yuusei, I'm going,” Juudai said as he pulled from Yuusei's grasp. He tugged the hooded sweater on, stuffing his arms through the sleeves in determination.

“We're wasting time standing around here,” Atemu added as he walked over to them and grabbed a black coat off the coat rack. “I'm not wasting any more.”

“Will both of you stop and listen?” Yuusei protested. He grabbed at Atemu's coat, stopping him from putting it on. “Did you forget that there's someone trying to kill you, Atemu? And you, Juudai, you know Yuugi would not want you running around half-cocked without some kind of plan –”

“How do you know?” Juudai asked him, confused.

“I'm taking an educated guess,” Yuusei replied. “We need to sit down and get our thoughts together before we make any hasty decisions –”

“Yuusei, whatever's after me could have gotten to Yuugi by now,” Atemu argued, yanking his coat away and struggling to put it on. He grunted in discomfort and pain, his wound hindering his movements. “And I'm not going to wait and plan when he could be hurt!”

“You can barely get around the house, Atemu,” Yuusei said, composed despite the situation. “How are you going to fight off anything? Sit your ass down before you fall over.”

“I can't just sit here and do nothing!” Atemu growled in exasperation. “He could be in the hands of the psychotic asshole who's after me!”

“Why would they go after Yuugi?” Yuusei asked levelly. “There's no reason for that and we don't have _proof.”_

“Because he was _helping?”_ Atemu suggested wildly. “Because he saved my life? Because he – I don't fucking know, Yuusei – maybe because he's a fucking fairy! The hell do I know!”

“Don't call him that, he doesn't like it,” Juudai input. Atemu spared him an exasperated look before turning back to Yuusei.

“He could be in danger,” Atemu insisted. “But how would they even know that Yuugi did anything?” Yuusei asked, the only voice of reason among two emotional werewolves.

“Yuugi's well-known around here,” Juudai supplied. “We've lived here all our lives and he's helped a lot of people –”

“You're going off on the assumption that whoever is responsible has been here long enough to know who Yuugi even is,” Yuusei argued, “when they've only gone after Atemu, who's not even from here and only got here a couple of months ago.” Sighing, Yuusei looked between them, jaw set. “You're both emotional,” he said. Focusing on Juudai, he spoke with a calm that belied the quick pulse in his veins. “Juudai, think about it – how can whoever this is know about Yuugi?” He turned to Atemu, almost rolling his eyes at the fangs jutting out of Atemu's panting mouth, his face pinched, nose pushed up in his primary werewolf form. A quick glance at his hands confirmed that Atemu had also summoned his claws. “Put your claws away, Atemu,” Yuusei said, “you look like you're about to pass out.”

“We haven't even figured out who _they_ is,” Juudai said, “or if there's more than one or what they want with Atemu.”

“I think the giant hole in my chest begs to differ,” Atemu said gruffly, his voice thick from his fangs. It was apparent that he was exhausted from summoning his primary form. The slump of his shoulders and the breathlessness as he spoke were telltale signs of his weakened state. “It's pretty obvious they want to kill me.”

“Well, yes,” Yuusei said with a nod, “but why?”

“I can't think of anything I did wrong enough to warrant murder,” Atemu groused. “My father was the one who went around killing people, not me. I'm just an asshole.”

“So what,” Juudai said with a wary glance at Atemu, “this other asshole wants revenge?”

Atemu shot him a disgruntled look.

“I don't doubt it,” Yuusei said. “Atemu's father did many wrongs for what he thought was the good of the pack.” He received a small look from Atemu at that, but Atemu said nothing.

“But still,” Juudai argued, “that doesn't explain why they took Yuugi!”

“We don't know that they did,” Yuusei stressed. “He could just be running a little late –”

“It's already two in the morning,” Atemu said, “and Yuugi said he wouldn't be long –” Suddenly, Atemu fell quiet, turning his head in direction of the door. He frowned. “Someone's coming.”

“Really?” Juudai said, hope lighting his face. He also turned towards the door, closing his eyes and straining his ears. It was not until fifteen seconds later that the unmistakable sound of footsteps trudging through the underbrush made itself known. It took a full five minutes to catch the heartbeat. Opening his eyes, Juudai clenched his teeth. “That's not Yuugi,” he said.

“How do you know?” Yuusei asked curiously.

“I know my brother's heartbeat,” Juudai said quietly, “and I know the way he walks. I've been listening to him all my life and _that's_ not him.”

“He's right,” Atemu said, and both Juudai and Yuusei looked at him with surprise. Atemu's expression quickly turned offended and he huffed. “I'm a full-blooded werewolf,” he said, motioning to himself. “You don't think I know how to tell the difference between people by their heartbeats and footsteps?” He frowned then, looking confused. “That … can't be right.” Slowly, he went to the door and reached for the handle. Instantly, Juudai grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“Dude,” he said urgently, “if you open that door, Yuugi's spell ward goes down!”

“I know that heartbeat,” Atemu said, easily prying Juudai's grip from his arm even as Juudai dug in his heels. Atemu cast his hold aside without looking at him and opened the door.

“Atemu,” Juudai hissed, “get back in here! _You're not even wearing shoes!”_

“Just let him go,” Yuusei muttered. “He's too stubborn to live.”

But Atemu was already walking down the steps, completely ignoring him. It was snowing again and his bare feet crunched on the cold flakes. Irritated, Juudai followed with Yuusei close on his heels. Soon, even Yuusei could hear someone walking through the forest just beyond the trees. Glancing at Atemu, Yuusei noted that he had dispelled his primary werewolf form and had adopted a mildly miffed expression.

With that, he relaxed.

“Seto,” Atemu said, and Yuusei looked back to the trees where a figure emerged, wrapped in a long, white coat. He was thin, but tall and imposing. Yuusei could almost see his icy blue eyes from where he stood. His gait was serene as Seto walked up to them, a large metal suitcase in his grip. “What are you doing here?” Atemu questioned as soon as he came to a stop before them.

“Greetings to you as well, cousin,” Seto replied icily, his voice smooth like silk. “Let's not speak out here.” He glanced at Yuusei, studying him. “Would you look at that, you're still alive,” he muttered.

“And we all know what a great disappointment that is to you,” Yuusei somberly responded.

A vague smirk pulled at Seto's lips, but he did not reply. He merely passed them, entering Atemu's home as though he owned the place.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Atemu turned and walked back in, followed by Yuusei and Juudai, the latter closing the door with confusion written all over his face.

“Who the heck is this?” he asked Yuusei who firmly shook his head for silence. Juudai frowned, but did not speak again, far too curious.

“Your coffee is crap like always,” Seto said idly as he poured himself a cup. “You're injured.”

“Slightly,” Atemu said, and Seto snorted in derision.

“More than slightly,” Seto said, a mean smile pulling sharply at the edge of his lips. “You smell like death.”

“That's the poultice,” Juudai quickly interjected. “It's collecting the dark magic.”

Seto did not even look at him. In fact, he acted as though Juudai had not spoken at all. Beside Juudai, Yuusei tensed, his foot shifting his body somewhat in front of him. His action earned him a baffled glance from Juudai.

“You also smell of fae,” Seto sniffed, nose scrunching snobbishly, “and it _is_ fae, isn't it. The whole house smells like a meadow – it's appalling.”

“Hold up –” Juudai started forward and Yuusei was quick to dart fully in front of him, standing like a shield and stopping him from progressing. Instantly, Seto's eyes flashed to Juudai and Atemu stepped forward, blocking both Yuusei and Juudai from view as his hands turned to fists at his sides.

“Leave him,” Atemu said.

“A halfbreed in your father's home,” Seto said with narrowed eyes. “I can smell its sullied blood from here. Your father must be turning in his grave.”

“Son of a –” Juudai started, but Yuusei turned and clapped a hand over Juudai's mouth, giving him a tight-lipped look and a stiff shake of his head.

“If it speaks again,” Seto said coolly, sipping at his mug, “I'll have the mutt's tongue.”

Though Juudai looked positively furious at his words, he nodded against Yuusei's hand. He was silent as Yuusei pulled away, but his eyes were seething with anger. It abated only slightly when Yuusei placed a calming hand on Juudai's bicep.

“This is my house, Seto,” Atemu said firmly, “and you will leave my guest be. I owe him a life debt.”

“Seems as though I'm a tad late,” Seto casually stated. “No matter. I've discovered some disturbing news that I wish to share with you … alone.”

“Can it wait?” Atemu said. “I currently have a bigger issue to deal with.”

“Perhaps our issues are related,” Seto said, and Atemu scoffed.

“Unless you know who's got my fairy, I really doubt it,” Atemu said snidely. At once, all eyes were on Atemu, who stilled, eyes widening before shaking his head. Juudai made a small sound of protest. “Not mine,” Atemu sputtered, “that's a mis – I meant –”

“A Freudian Slip as it were,” Seto smirked, pulling a chair out and taking a seat. He crossed his legs in an elegant motion and leaned back comfortably. “But if whoever's got _your_ fairy is the one trying to kill you, then you definitely need to hear what I have to say.”

For a moment, they were all quiet, and Yuusei let go of Juudai. He looked to Atemu and spoke.

“Atemu, we don't even know if Yuugi was taken,” Yuusei said. “We should wait a bit longer and while we're at it, you can listen to what he's got.” He glanced at Juudai, receiving a reluctant nod to his suggestion.

Clenching his teeth, it looked like Atemu wanted to deny Seto his talk and storm out of the house. But the pallor to his skin and the slight tremble to his knees told of his fatigue and Atemu sighed irately before moving to the table, pulling out a chair and sitting heavily upon it.

“Fine,” he said, “whatever you've got to say can be said in front of Yuusei and _Juudai.”_ He said the name pointedly, but Seto did not even bat an eyelash.

“Very well,” Seto said, lips twisting, “but I warn you, the news I bring is not pleasant.”

* * *

It was the pain that woke Yuugi. It was inside of him, coursing through his very veins. It felt hot and molten, bringing a sheen of sweat to his skin. Shivering, he opened his eyes, his bleary gaze unfocused. His face felt hot and his eyes like fire. His body prickled with discomfort and his bones creaked as though they would splinter. Groaning miserably, he closed his eyes and wished for his pain to cease.

The shadows called for him with whispers of relief and he would gladly listen. He would succumb to sleep and hope for a better awakening. But before he could drift into darkness, footsteps came thundering though the fog of his suffering and his eyes opened to slits. Breathing raggedly, he searched for the source, yet he could see nothing but metal bars and the peeling paint of the wall beyond them.

Soon, the footsteps came to a stop some ways away from his feet and he parted his lips, attempting to speak, to call for help. However, nothing but a groan left his lips and he quieted.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” crooned a smooth, lilting voice, and Yuugi's vision swam. He closed his eyes, nauseous. “Can't think can you?” There was a lighthearted laugh. “If you could speak, what would you say?” A small pause. “Oh, I know – 'what have you done to me? Who are you? Where am I?'” Another laugh. “Very obvious questions, but as I am a gracious host, I will answer you.” There were a couple more steps before they stopped, almost at his feet.

“I've poisoned you,” said the voice, “in case you could not tell. As for who I am, well, I'm afraid it would not make a lick of difference to you. See, you do not know me … but I've heard of you, little fairy.”

Yuugi's stomach twisted, and through the fog of his brain, a sense of alarm poured through. However, it quickly vanished with the next shudder of pain that wracked his body.

“You've quite a reputation in this town,” the voice continued. “The folk here _revere_ you. The Good Witch, they call you. You're the one with the solutions to _all_ their problems. You're the one who takes in broken things and fixes them. Well, little halfling, you'll do the same for me.” Abruptly, Yuugi was shifted onto his back and he moaned in pain, his arm falling to the side. The back of his hand struck something hot, burning him, and Yuugi recoiled weakly, whimpers leaving his lips. Hot tears slipped from under his eyelids and Yuugi opened them, his vision blurred to hell. He could vaguely see a tall dark figure, haloed in light.

“As for where you are, well, it's obvious, isn't it? You're in an iron cage.” Suddenly, a bark of mad laughter left the stranger and he was shifted back onto his side. Groaning, Yuugi's head spun and the laughter was everywhere until only echoes remained. He closed his eyes then, unable to stay awake, and fell back into unconsciousness.

* * *

The second time Yuugi awoke, his mind was more lucid, though his head spun with the slightest movement of his body. He ached and shuddered compulsively with cold and sickness. There was silence all around him, and his quivering breaths sounded all the louder for it. Opening his eyes, he saw iron bars before him, a foot away. His vision swam then and his stomach turned over. Weakly, he parted his lips and vomit spilled out onto the mat beneath him. Out came bile and little else as he had not eaten in who knew how long.

“That's a side effect,” said a soft, young voice, “sorry. It was a necessary precaution we had to take.”

 _Precaution … necessary?_ Yuugi thought sluggishly as he gently pushed away from his vomit, arms trembling. He tiredly lifted his head in direction of the voice, gulping down his need to heave a second time.

“Don't try using any of your powers,” said the voice, “you'll only aggravate the poison.”

Finally, Yuugi focused on the person speaking. It was a young boy on the other side of the iron bars at his feet. He looked extremely young, probably a couple of years younger than Juudai's sixteen. He was seated on the floor just outside Yuugi's area of containment, looking in at him with sympathy.

Yuugi could not hear his thoughts.

“P…” Yuugi tried to speak, but it was difficult. His jaw felt like cement, his tongue dead, and his vocal cords strung tight. He vaguely recalled walking down the street on his way to the shop and seeing a man collapse in pain. He had rushed over to help … then nothing.

 _What happened to the man?_ Yuugi thought. _Did they get him too?_

“Poison,” the boy said. His hair was a dark maroon and long, held back into a low ponytail. His eyes were a gorgeous hazel, skin pale and littered with freckles. Yuugi had never seen this boy in his life. “I injected you with human blood,” said the boy.

Rage curled into Yuugi's stomach, strong and potent. His eyes burned and Yuugi knew they were lighting up like Christmas lights. But then the feeling dissipated and a sharp stab of pain laced through Yuugi's head. He whimpered, letting go of the power he had unwittingly summoned.

“H-how … did you…” Yuugi hissed. Because human blood was lethal to fae, though the people who knew that were few and far between. A strong ache of fear stabbed him in his gut.

“We did our research,” the boy said, “don't worry, it's not enough to kill you. Just enough to keep you sedate and complacent.” He looked to the ground. “I'm sorry we have to do this to you.”

“'S-sorry',” Yuugi seethed, “you are not _sorry.”_ Struggling, Yuugi used all of his remaining strength to move onto his hands and knees. Raising a hand, Yuugi noticed that his skin was blue, but he ignored it, feeling his eyes sting as they lit up with angry violet once more.

“I would really not do that if I were you,” warned the boy, but Yuugi was already casting his spell, words tumbling from his lips. Brow creased, the boy turned away as Yuugi's hand glowed a sick opaque couché, a greenish brown. Then it was like an explosion had gone off and Yuugi was thrown back to crash on the ground with a pained sound. His cage suddenly moved, rolling to a stop with an abrupt bang as it hit the wall behind him. Yuugi curled up, cradling his arm to his chest. Through the swirling nausea, he pulled up the sleeves and peered at his arm, his stomach squirming. The skin had wrinkled like a withered plant and the blue had turned a gradient of greenish brown, black at the tips of his fingers and fading all the way to his elbow. Biting on his tongue to keep from whimpering, he lowered the sleeves once more.

It hurt to move.

“Told you it was a bad idea,” the boy said with a sigh. “Please don't use any more magic. It'll only get worse.”

“Why?” Yuugi groaned. “Why are you doing this to me?”

The boy stood, walking over to his cage before he knelt on the ground. His hands clutched the cell bars and his gaze grew hard, biting at his lip anxiously.

“Let me tell you a story,” the boy said, “but before I start, I should introduce myself. My name is Leonhart. I come from a family of witches, but I was, unfortunately, born without the gift. I am mortal – _human.”_ Leonhart took a moment to breathe, brow creased and mouth twisted. It was obvious that his mortal status bothered him. “I don't remember my parents,” he said, “I'm told they were very good people, generous and kind.

“They helped those that needed it and took nothing for themselves,” he continued, “but one night, on a full moon, our coven was attacked. We weren't there, my brother and I. I was only seven years old at the time – I should've been in bed. But instead, I was with my brother. He was fifteen and he had just come into his powers.” He paused, seeming uncertain, as though the events he were describing were not his memories, but a tale someone had told him. “We were in the woods when it happened,” he said after a moment, “he liked to practice in the moonlight. Said it made him feel at peace.

“They were surrounded in the dead of night,” Leonhart said, “spell wards added to trap people in their yurts. They set our homes aflame, leaving them to burn – those that managed to get out were hunted, dragged back, and gutted.” His expression twisted. “…He took the memory from my head, so I would stop screaming at night.” He removed a hand from the iron and placed a fist at his temple, gritting his teeth. “Out of a hundred, only we remain, my brother and I. Just us.” His grip on the cell bars tightened, knuckles white with the strain. “Do you know who they were?” he whispered. “The animals that massacred our entire coven?” He looked Yuugi straight in the eyes, teeth bared and clenched in anger. “Werewolves,” he hissed, “glorified dogs. They came to our home and razed it to the ground without warning – without cause. Our coven was peaceful. We lived simply and happily, far away from everyone and the insipid complications of modern life. We did nothing to deserve the cruelty they inflicted upon us!

“You're probably asking yourself,” said Leonhart, his voice shaking, “what this could possibly have to do with you – why are you here when you're not the one who destroyed my family?” His hands dropped to his lap, motionless. “Well,” he said, “do you recall me mentioning my mortality?” The expression on his face turned grim and unyielding. “I won't be for long.”

* * *

“So the witches really were framed,” Atemu said with an ironic huff of a laugh, “just so my father could have reason to attack the coven.” Leaning back in his chair, he sighed. On the sidelines, stood Yuusei and Juudai, the first contemplative, the latter furious. “So who really killed Uncle Akhenaden?” Atemu asked seriously.

“Who indeed?” Seto said quietly, “Who could possibly want him dead? Who had the opportunity?”

“You know who it was,” Atemu said slowly as realization struck him. His eyes widened.

“Of course I do,” Seto scoffed, “regardless of the kind of man he was, I could not just let such a thing slide. He was my uncle – pack.” Waving a hand to dispel the conversation, Seto narrowed his eyes. “Moving on,” he said, “the story is not done.” He leaned forward, hands resting on his lap. “While your father detested anything not werewolf,” he said, “killing a hundred people just for the sake of ridding them from the earth is beyond insanity.” Reaching under the table, Seto brought his suitcase up and placed it on the wood, fingers brushing reverently along the edge. “There was another reason,” he said quietly, “two, in fact. And both are in here.”

“What is it?” Atemu asked tiredly. “Enough with the theatrics and get on with it.”

With a slight roll of his eyes. Seto stood and entered the key code into the digital panel at the rim. He hesitated only a moment before flicking the seals up and opening it. Atemu immediately caught the scent of fire and charcoal and he frowned. As Seto turned the briefcase towards him Atemu stood, peering in. His brow furrowed and he looked back up at Seto.

“What the hell is this?” he asked.

“Are you serious?” Seto rebutted disbelievingly.

Settled comfortably in foam, were two large eggs. One was cerulean-blue and sand-yellow, the colors criss-crossed around the shell, never melding together with streaks of indigo going down the sides. The other was red and ochre-brown, spotted with rounded, yellow, triangular markings.

“Holy crap,” Juudai breathed, “those are dragon eggs … _actual_ dragon eggs. Oh, my god.”

Atemu's eyes widened.

“I thought dragons were myth,” said Yuusei with confusion. “You're not seriously telling us that they're real and you just so happen to have a couple of eggs.”

“I don't _happen_ to have anything,” Seto said, “this is the reason why one-hundred witches were wiped from the earth.” He smirked at Yuusei then. _“Your_ father, when he met with my dear cousin in secret, told her about them. When she found out she was pregnant, she tried to barter the life of the thing growing inside her for the information. Begged for it to be spared.” Seto shrugged. “Obviously,” he said, “no such deal was struck and only my uncle got what he wanted.”

“She … Isis was pregnant?” Yuusei said hollowly, eyes wide. But Seto did not even look at him when he scoffed.

“Indeed,” he said coldly, and Yuusei's shoulders fell the slightest bit in his shock. He said nothing more, eyes hardening as he turned his gaze to the side. Behind him, Juudai stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing in comfort. Yuusei glanced at him, their eyes meeting.

Neither said a word.

The room was silent then as Atemu stared at the eggs, jaw working angrily. He wanted nothing more than to slam out of the room and up the stairs to rage about the atrocities his father had committed, but Atemu could not. He could not possibly give himself time to be angry when he had more pressing matters at hand.

“Finish the story,” he demanded. “What else is there?”

“Someone survived the massacre,” Seto said. “They killed your parents, they know about the eggs, and they have your fairy.”

“My parents were killed by hunters,” Atemu said disbelievingly. “That's what Set said! What makes you so sure about all of this?”

Seto scoffed at him, an ugly sneer pulling at his lips.

“While you ran away from your duties,” Seto said, “and left your pack to grieve –”

“I did not run away!” Atemu snapped.

“I helped Set investigate past those preliminary findings,” Seto continued as though Atemu had not spoken. “Things didn't add up. Yes, the hearts were taken from your parents' bodies as hunters do, but they don't put bodies on display like they did your parents – hunters bury the evidence. They don't leave traces of magic at the scene of the crime. They don't leave ominous warnings that more will follow!”

“This is the first I'm ever hearing of this,” Atemu protested, “I didn't know –”

“Set wasn't done investigating,” Seto spat. “You would have known if you had stayed, but instead you ran off and stuck your head in the ground!”

“I was grieving!” Atemu snapped back. “Am I not allowed to grieve the death of my parents?”

Before Atemu could attempt to make more excuses, Seto slammed his briefcase shut.

“You're not the only one who lost someone,” Seto snarled. “They were my family too, _my_ aunt and uncle. You weren't the only one suffering, you selfish piece of shit. We all lost the foundation of our lives – our leaders. Don't you dare try to excuse yourself with that bullshit!” He took a deep breath, reeling himself back and calming significantly. His expression turned from pure fury to nonchalance in less than three seconds, an impressive feat.

On the other side of the table, Atemu was silent.

“Regardless,” Seto said, continuing as though nothing had occurred, “if you want more proof that they know about the eggs, remember that your fairy friend is missing.”

“Yuugi?” Atemu breathed, instantly distracted. “What does Yuugi have to do with these eggs?”

“There are only two ways to call a dragon from their egg,” Seto said with a jeering smile. “One is for their mother to breathe fire upon them. The second is to soak the egg in the blood of a fairy.” He gave Atemu only a moment to absorb the information before he twisted the knife. “And unless there's another rare little creature prancing about, they will most definitely be using your fairy.”

“What?” Juudai finally spoke and his voice trembled. “They're going to –” Abruptly, his breaths ceased. “They're going to kill him,” he said, voice small, “that sick bastard is going to kill my brother.”

“How do we find them?” Atemu demanded of Seto, his anger flaring when Seto only stared at him with contempt. “Tell me how to find the son of a bitch who took Yuugi!”

“Atemu,” Yuusei tried calmly, but Atemu snarled at him, his fangs jutting from his gums, nose scrunched, almost squashed against his face.

“No – no more doubting!” Atemu shouted. “Yuugi _still_ isn't here and now we have a reason to believe that psycho shit has him!” He turned to Seto, fangs pressing against his lips and eyes narrowed to slits. His hands had sprouted their claws and they scratched at the wooden surface of the table he gripped to keep himself from attacking Seto. “Tell me,” Atemu hissed, “what you know of them.”

Sighing, Seto looked almost bored by Atemu's transformation. He drove a hand through his brown locks and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I have no idea where they are,” Seto said uncaringly, “but they're after you and me both, so I suppose that they're not too far away.” He sighed again when Atemu's claws gouged the surface of the table, grimacing. “Atemu, that is an antique, real mahogany,” he said and rolled his eyes when Atemu growled. “Use your nose if you really wish to find your little fairy. Track him.” He grabbed his mug of coffee then and sipped from it, nonchalant as can be.

“Track,” Juudai said suddenly. “Oh, my god, I'm so fucking stupid!” Gripping at his hair, Juudai let out a frustrated sound before he dropped his hands and yanked out his phone, jabbing at it impatiently. “I can track Yuugi's cell!” he exclaimed. “He loses his phone so much that I had to install this app – why the hell don't I have a signal!”

“We're in the middle of the woods,” Yuusei said helpfully.

“I have wi-fi,” Atemu said suddenly, earning himself an incredulous look from Yuusei. “What?” he said defensively. “How else am I supposed to keep myself sane out here in the fucking woods?”

“What's your password?” Juudai demanded.

“Uh,” Atemu blushed then. It looked ridiculously out of place on his feral features.

“Well?” Juudai pressed.

“Wolverine rocks,” Atemu mumbled, “all together in caps with an 'X'.”

“Once we get Yuugi out of this mess,” Juudai said as he typed aggressively, “you're going out on a date with him because you're both lame dorks.” Yuusei snorted despite the seriousness in Juudai's tone and Atemu remained quiet, though his blush had intensified. All was silent for a moment before Juudai breathed a disbelieving laugh. “I can't believe it,” he said, “it worked. I know where Yuugi is!”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Atemu said as he tried to pass Juudai to get to the door. Juudai suddenly grabbed at Atemu, attempting to halt him, surprised when Atemu easily ripped away as though Juudai had not used his superhuman strength.

“Uh,” Juudai said uncertainly as Atemu stared at him in question, “dude, you can … barely stand? Uh, huh, hold on.” Quickly, he dug through his pockets and pulled out several brightly colored pills. “Take three,” he said. “Yuugi's going to be pissed that I have them, but I can't let you go like you are.”

“What are they?” Atemu asked as he took them into his clawed hand. He eyed them skeptically as Juudai elaborated.

“I use them to cram for tests,” Juudai said. “They're basically like energy drinks, only magical and in pill form.” Atemu made to take them, but Juudai held a hand out, stopping him. “The downside,” he said, “is that you'll crash really hard when they wear off, and I mean that literally. You'll fall someplace and won't get up for the next twenty-four hours.”

“But with them…” Atemu said slowly.

“With them,” Juudai said firmly, “you'll be up for a fight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like the plot has come crashing through the wall like the kool-aid man.
> 
> Oh, yeah.


	11. Fae Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caged and helpless, Yuugi learns what his captors really want from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell, this is one hell of a chapter. I hope y'all like!
> 
>  
> 
> **Warning: this chapter contains scenes that may be too intense for sensitive readers. Contains blood, knives, &descriptions of injuries. Read with caution.**

“Do you have wings?” Leonhart asked curiously.

Quietly, Yuugi sat in the middle of his cage, legs pulled up to his chest and his right hand cradled against him. He shivered in the cold and did not bother to look up at Leonhart, far too angry. From what he had observed of the room and the cage, he had no form of escape. There was a heavy iron lock keeping the latch in place and he had no powers with which to open it. Even touching it would hurt him.

Gently, Yuugi pulled up the his sleeves of his injured arm, his eyes watering in pain. The skin was brown and wrinkled, oddly dry and almost cracking. Because of the human blood that had been injected into Yuugi, his magic was sick. If he attempted to use it again, it would backfire and make his injury worse. He winced as his arm throbbed and stung. With nowhere to escape, his magic remained trapped in his arm, ailing him until it could be released. As it was, Yuugi could not even begin to heal until he purged the poison from his system.

It was freezing cold and quiet in the room. They were in a small office of some sort. In the corner, there was an L-shaped desk, far too large to fit through the door. Its metal legs were rusted through and the particle board surface was coming apart with mold. There was wall-to-wall carpeting, old, rotted, and torn, that stunk like mildew. And on one wall, there was a line of large windows, darkness beyond them.

If Yuugi had to guess, he would say that he was in the warehouse district at the far edge of town. It was filled with decrepit buildings, out of use and unmaintained. The buildings had been empty for as long as he could remember. He vaguely recalled his mother mentioning a bankruptcy that had shut down the textile company that had owned them. Yuugi had grown up in what had seemed a ghost town until very recently.

New businesses were slowly sprouting up again on Main street, bringing new people with them. But even with the boost in the town's economy, the warehouses remained unused and derelict. And as such, there would be no one around to hear if Yuugi screamed.

“Are you going to answer?” Leonhart asked. “I just want to know if you have wings. I bet that would be really beautiful to see –”

“Wrong fairy,” Yuugi finally gritted out. His voice shook, teeth chattering intermittently as he lowered his sleeve to cover what he could. “They're pixies and they're pests.” He shifted, wary of the bars that seemed to close for comfort. Though large at three feet in width, five in length, and three feet high, Yuugi's cage was barely tall enough for him to sit up. He was hunched and his back ached from the position. His neck was no better off, stiff with a crick he could not work out. The bottom of the cage had been covered in a silicone mat to keep his body from making contact with the iron underneath. For ease of movement, the cage had been placed on top of a four-wheel dolly.

“How many kinds are there?” Leonhart asked with apparent fascination, and Yuugi fell silent once again, curling his legs even closer to himself.

 _Juudai, Atemu, please find me,_ Yuugi thought with desperation. _Please._

“What about wishes?” Leonhart continued without compunction, tilting his head to the side. “Or is that just a leprechaun thing – if they're even real. If I free you, will you grant me a wish?”

“Why don't you find out?” Yuugi dared. “Free me.” He lifted his head slightly, meeting Leonhart's gaze head-on, chest tight as he shivered. Leonhart gazed at him with curiosity, measuring him.

An icy draft poured in from under the door and Yuugi felt it chill him all the way to his bones. Pulling his legs closer to himself, Yuugi tried his very best not to think of how cold and hungry he was. He was wearing only a thin jacket over his shirt, while Leonhart was bundled up to his ears in comfort.

“Free you?” Leonhart said with a wry smile. “Oh, I can't do that, we still need you.” He sighed, a grimace pulling at his lips. “I wish it didn't have to be this way.”

“If you had asked nicely,” Yuugi suddenly said, his voice beginning to shake, teeth chattering intermittently, “I might have helped you.” At his words, Leonhart's brow furrowed, eyes searching his own.

“You'd help us kill an entire pack of wolves?” Leonhart questioned, eyebrows rising.

“No,” Yuugi said, his tone disgusted. “I meant with your lack of powers because what you and your brother want to do is wrong and I would _never_ help you do that.”

“Wrong?” Leonhart echoed hollowly, his back stiffening with indignation. “Wrong is what those _animals_ did to us –”

“Killing begets killing,” Yuugi said quietly. “There's no end to it … and werewolves are _not_ animals.” At his words, Leonhart tilted his head to the side, eyes considerate and his nose scrunched.

“Oh, that's right,” he said, eyes narrowed, “you have a werewolf brother, adopted – big brother told me.” He grimaced with distaste, staring at Yuugi with bafflement. “If you had any sense, you'd put him to sleep.”

“He's my _brother!”_ Yuugi cried angrily. “He's not a dog!” But Leonhart did not seem to hear him. With a furrowed brow, he stood and picked up the lantern. For a single moment, his hands clenched fiercely before his expression cleared and he nodded to himself.

“Don't worry,” Leonhart said softly, “we can free you. I'll be humane.” Yuugi stared at him, panic shooting through his heart and dread curling through his veins. He gripped his knee with his working hand, alarmed.

 _No,_ he thought, _not Juudai!_

“You stay the _hell_ away from my brother!” Yuugi spat, though his heart quivered with fear.

“I'm sorry,” Leonhart whispered then with an apologetic look. He motioned to the lantern in his hand, lifting it slightly. “My brother says to take this with me. You'll have to sit here in the dark.”

And before Yuugi could react, Leonhart had gone, the door closing behind him with a grating sound of finality.

* * *

For a long time afterwards, Yuugi sat, freezing and shaking in his iron cage. Looking up, he peered out into the darkness, trying to think of what he could do. However, his thoughts were sluggish and nothing came to him. All he could think about was how he could no longer feel his face, his fingers, or his toes. Yuugi despaired, blinking his wet and weary eyes furiously. His throat ached, having screamed himself hoarse on the off chance that either Juudai or Atemu would hear him. Yet the minutes had turned to hours, and not even Leonhart or his brother had bothered to come shut him up. He had given up then and cried, knowing it was futile. The people that had trapped him had done their research well. It was entirely possible that they had erected a spell to keep the room soundproof so that even Atemu, a full-blooded werewolf, could not hear him.

Sighing desolately, he pressed his forehead into his knees, eyes squeezing shut as he trembled with the biting cold. Worry and hunger were swirling in his stomach, but his preoccupation was not for himself. Rather, Yuugi was worried for Atemu and especially his brother. Leonhart had threatened Juudai, and Yuugi did not know what to do. He was exhausted, starving, and quite possibly developing hypothermia. He ached all over and his body begged him to succumb to sleep one more time. But Yuugi refused. He would not sleep until he figured a way to escape, to warn Juudai and protect him.

Futilely, Yuugi checked the pockets of his jeans one-handed, his numb fingers stumbling and stiff as he hoped for a miracle. Yet, like the other three times Yuugi had tried, nothing came of it. They had taken all of his things. Biting at his lip, Yuugi turned his mind to the poison in his body. Though he could not physically feel it inside of him, it made his skin crawl as if a congealed substance sat just underneath his skin. Yuugi itched to take his fingernails to his body, burdened with the relentless need to claw through it and scrape the poison out. It felt like he was covered in filth. Grinding his teeth, Yuugi shuddered. He could not use magic, either to help him escape, or to rid himself of the impurity in his veins. Being so cut off from such an integral part of himself felt like a lonely pit of despair. It wrenched at Yuugi and he felt utterly useless.

Abruptly, footsteps echoed in the distance and Yuugi stilled as much as he could against the compulsive shivering of his body. Keeping his head against his knees, he waited, heart in his throat. He could see a dim light illuminating the room on the other side of the clouded and dirty windows. It creeped under the door, coming closer and closer until it opened with a loud creak on its rusty hinges. The light strongly spilled into the room, throwing the shadows of the bars over him and onto the mat at his sides. The light came even closer, hurting Yuugi's stinging eyes. The footsteps came to his cage, pausing and Yuugi bit at his lip, waiting.

“Hello, sweet flower child,” said a voice that was definitely not Leonhart. It was bare of emotion, chilling him even more than the room itself. “How are we feeling?”

Jaw clenched, Yuugi said nothing.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” the stranger clucked his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “it's rude to ignore your host.” There was a soft laugh. “After all the trouble we went through,” the stranger sighed, “ordering this specially-made cage just for you – you should be honored we bothered at all.” He shifted, stepping closer. “We could have thrown you into a broom cupboard for all the danger you currently pose,” he said idly, “but my baby brother mistakenly thought you'd be more of a handful because of your fae half.

“I have to say I'm disappointed,” he continued, “maybe the fairy in you is not prominent enough … being only a _halfling.”_ The words stung Yuugi deeply, a painful reminder of his life-long failure to commune with nature. Then his heart shriveled with fear. As his half-fae status was not common knowledge, Yuugi was afraid of what else the man knew.

There was a disappointed sound of sucked teeth.

“Somehow, I don't believe you'll be enough to call them out.”

“…Call what out?” Yuugi finally spoke, his voice naught but a rasp.

“Ah, he speaks!” the man said, sounding absolutely delighted. “Why, the dragons, of course, silly bee.”

Looking up and squinting against the light, Yuugi finally saw the man on the other side of the bars. The stranger was tall and dressed in a red suit. He had long, rose-colored hair and a pale face with light, arsenic-green eyes. With some shock, Yuugi realized it was the man he had tried to help before he lost consciousness.

 _It was a trap,_ Yuugi realized and his breath caught in his throat, his anxiety spiking.

“Dragons are extinct,” Yuugi said, his heartbeat beginning to race. What this man was saying could not be possible. As far as Yuugi knew, dragons were extinct. A chill raced down his spine, raising the hairs at the nape of his neck. He hoped they were extinct. Yuugi had heard tales from his father and grandfather, of blood feuds and wars between dragons and the fair folk. They got along as well as snakes and mongooses.

Throwing his head back, a bark of laughter left the man and he took a step closer. His smile was sharp and he was suddenly darting forth, his fists curling around the iron. The reaction was instant. Startling back in horror, Yuugi watched as his skin began to bubble and burn, that terrible smile unmoved.

“That's where you're mistaken, little fairy,” said the man with a sneer of a smile. “Shall I show you something nice?” He tilted his head to the side, bringing a thoughtful finger to tap at his chin, palm burnt and bubbling with blisters from its brief contact. Yuugi turned his eyes forcefully away, disgusted and viscerally afraid that the man felt no pain. His gut clenched with a need to hurl and a dreadful unease consumed him, setting his heart apace. “It's the least I could do,” he said with a considering tone. “You should know why you're here.”

“I know why I'm here,” Yuugi whispered, his voice trembling, “you want to take my magic –”

“Is that what Leon told you?” the redhead chuckled. “That's what he thinks – I'm not even sure it's possible to transfer magical powers.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “However, for dear Leon, I will try. Now let me show you what I really need you for.” Slowly, the redhead let go of the iron and Yuugi clenched his jaw at the grisly sight of his hand. Burned and raw, the skin was flaking, bloody, and speckled in black where it had fried against the metal. It was nauseating.

From his shoulder, the man slipped a drawstring leather bag that Yuugi had not noticed before. He moved his hands gracefully, completely ignoring his wounds as if he had none at all.

Yuugi barely held himself back from puking.

 _He's mad,_ Yuugi concluded with a heavy heart. He fully understood then that Leonhart's brother was absolutely unhinged, and Yuugi feared him. He watched with wide eyes and shallow breaths as the redhead opened the bag, pulling a large bundle of white, knitted cloth into his arms. He held it delicately, like a precious child, close to his heart. Tossing the bag aside, he edged closer, pausing at the bars and humming with pleasure.

“Come and see,” he said softly, almost wistfully. “Move your beautiful little body over here and see the precious one I hold.”

Despite his terror and common sense, Yuugi moved, transfixed. The curiosity he felt was overwhelming. The man's words could not possibly be true. The lunatic stranger was most likely to be holding a rock or an ostrich egg. Yuugi could not believe he held an actual dragon egg. There was just no way. But with great struggle, Yuugi shifted out of his position and onto his elbows and knees, his limbs heavy and stiff from the poison, his injury, and the cold. His mouth was dry with apprehension, his lithe frame visibly trembling with the effort it took not to collapse onto his stomach. Slowly, he crawled over to the bars, stopping just a couple of inches shy of the metal. Even without touching them, Yuugi could feel the heat emanating from the iron, a silent threat.

Peering out, Yuugi watched as the man tilted his arms, revealing the gorgeously colored egg within the cloth. It was teal and aqua, the colors merging and swirling around the shell, flecked with bits of sea-foam green. Even without ever having seen a dragon egg, Yuugi felt it deep in his gut. He felt a surge of rolling dread and he _knew,_ without a doubt, that it was real. It was an actual dragon egg.

At that moment, Yuugi swore his heart stopped. Eyes wide, his lips parted, and he let out an awed breath of disbelief.

“It can't be,” he whispered.

“Stunning, isn't it?” the man crooned, running a reverent finger down the length of the shell. “I can hardly wait,” he said before turning pale eyes to Yuugi, “and I don't see any reason why I should have to.”

Before Yuugi could even register the movement, the man was grabbing his uninjured arm through the bars. With a cry of surprise, Yuugi was pulled forward with a vicious yank, and his left cheek collided with the bars. He did not immediately register the pain, his cheeks frozen numb. But after the first couple of seconds, his cheek seared with fire, and Yuugi cried out. Using his injured arm, he grabbed hold of a bar and pushed away, hindered by the man's hold. He quickly let go, tears filling his eyes as he struggled onto his knees. Holding his withered arm against him, Yuugi bit hard on his lip and sucked in deep breaths.

Ignoring Yuugi, or perhaps unaware of his pain, the man knelt before the cage with a smile.

“I've waited _far_ too long,” he said, gently lowering the egg to the ground, “the only reason I have it is because I stole it that night.” He pulled Yuugi roughly and Yuugi yelped in pain as his clothed skin was pulled flush against the iron, shoulder trapped between the bars. Yuugi barely managed to keep his already stricken face away. He pulled futilely, his heart racing and his very being shaking with fright. “That night, I went looking for fairies,” the man idly continued. “I wanted to see a dragon.”

The fabric of Yuugi's sweater and shirt melted before his eyes and Yuugi let out a throat-shredding wail as the iron began to scorch his skin.

“Forgive me,” the man said abruptly as he pulled a pocket knife from his pocket, “I just realized how rude it is to take your blood without having introduced myself.” He laughed mirthfully. “I must have been too caught up in my excitement.”

“What are you doing?” Yuugi cried through his pain. “Stop this!”

“My name is Siegfried,” he said as though Yuugi had not spoken, “and what do they call you, little fairy?”

“Please stop,” Yuugi sobbed through gritted teeth as his skin continued to burn against the foul metal. “Please let me go!” He tried to pull away, to remove his trapped arm from the bars, but Siegfried's hold was like the iron itself and inescapable. His jaw was clenched so hard, Yuugi felt his teeth would shatter.

“Of course, I already know your name,” Siegfried said, ignoring his comment, “after all, I've hunted for you, little Yuugi, but it's only polite to ask. You have no idea how hard it was to find you. Our kind hide very well, after all – and fae?” Siegfried huffed. “Fae are rarer than the ends of rainbows.” He chuckled lightly.

“You're completely insane,” Yuugi cried, “let me go – please! _Please!”_

“Let me tell you something, my little fae friend,” Siegfried said. “I'm not just hurting you for nothing.” He sighed before he allowed Yuugi to ease back from the iron, though his arm still remained in his hold. Yuugi whimpered with relief, hiccuping and shivering, fat tears dribbling down his cheeks. “Better?” Siegfried asked, and Yuugi simply sobbed in answer. “Good. Let it be known that I am indeed a gracious host. My parents raised a good boy before they were viciously murdered. Now, pay attention.” He motioned to the egg at his knees with a smile. “You see, there are only two ways to hatch a dragon,” Siegfried explained. “I'm sure you know already, but indulge me. One requires a dragon, and the second requires their natural enemy.” There was a rabid gleam to Siegfried's eyes and it terrified Yuugi. He shuddered, frightened, and all at once, as he gazed into that manic, nightmarish expression, he felt alone – completely and _utterly_ alone.

 _I'm going to die,_ Yuugi thought with dizzying panic. The cage and the room suddenly seemed smaller to Yuugi, closing in on him, and he cringed. Shutting his eyes, Yuugi struggled to breathe, his chest tightening and throat narrowing. _I'm really going to die and I'm never going to see my family again. I'll never fight Juudai over the remote again – I didn't even water the plants._ Yuugi abruptly laughed, though it was far from an amusing situation. _I never told Atemu how I feel._

“Fairy blood,” Siegfried whispered into Yuugi's crying face. He had begun to rock himself, sniffling as he cried. “Bathing an egg in the blood of a fairy will crack this shell wide open!” A high whimper of terror escaped Yuugi's lips and Siegfried frowned at him. “Fear not,” he said in a hushed voice that Yuugi supposed was meant to comfort him, but had the opposite effect on his already frazzled nerves, “I will not kill you. There are two more after this egg. I still need you, Yuugi dear.” He grimaced then. “I must simply get them back from that disgusting werewolf. You have no clue how difficult it was to find him. The things I had to do. His parents didn't have the eggs, you know. I know _he_ has them – he must. His filthy father must have given them to him.

“Then they will all die,” Siegfried continued, “every last one of them. I know I attempted to kill the pup of the ones responsible for my family's massacre, but I think I was too hasty.” Siegfried shook his head, looking thoughtful, and he patted Yuugi's hand with the closed pocket knife. “Indeed, I was much too hasty. I would do better to leave him be for now.” Abruptly, he flicked the knife open and ripped into Yuugi's wrist with ease, extracting a scream from Yuugi's already ragged throat. Yuugi sobbed, gritting his teeth against the pain and eyes overflowing with tears. His rocking grew agitated, his body hunching over as he rapidly rocked and shook.

“Because of that mutt's mangy parents,” Siegfried continued nonchalantly, “I had to watch my own burn. Because of them, I see my parents' blackened, crusted faces every single time I close my eyes. It was very difficult to find them after the wolves had left. They all looked the same, burnt to a crisp. But I did find them, thanks to my mother's stone necklace. The stones were glued to her chest. I had to pry them out.” He chuckled. “She once told me they were for _protection._ Isn't that funny?” His gaze drifted from Yuugi and his eyes glazed over, smile petrified on his lips. “I don't sleep much, as you may have gathered.”

Lifting his head up, Yuugi opened his eyes. Through his tears, he watched his pearly blue blood flow from his arm and onto the egg, soaking the white cloth through. It continued on for several moments, his life pouring out of him with every beat of his heart, unable to stop it. Siegfried turned his gaze down, almost mechanically, to stare at Yuugi.

His features were frozen, eyes unfocused, and Yuugi could tell Siegfried was not looking at him.

“This is the beginning of my revenge,” Siegfried whispered, “I'll leave him last, that pup.” He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes watching as Yuugi's blood covered the egg completely. “After I take back my eggs,” Siegfried hissed, “I will go after him – I'm so glad he survived my ghoul.” He looked at Yuugi, winking, and Yuugi stilled, his gut clenching with unadulterated rancor. It overpowered his fear, drowning it out in one fell swoop of heart-hardening hatred. “Now I get to play with him to my heart's content. How does torture sound?”

“Evil,” Yuugi bit out, and Siegfried laughed, squeezing his arm and another pained grunt out of Yuugi. Eyes falling to his arm, his anger was quickly replaced with worry.

 _How much blood have I lost?_ Yuugi wondered. _How much more will he take? I can't die here. I need to protect Juudai and Atemu._ It was not long before Yuugi began to feel lightheaded. He groaned, closing his eyes once more. He heard Siegfried begin to murmur under his breath, the flat part of the blade pressing against his wound. Then his arm was released and Yuugi felt himself pushed back. He fell to the ground, crying with relief and pain. He hurt all over and his body felt like pins and needles, like he was static in a television. Curling in on himself, Yuugi opened his eyes and checked his forearm, noting that his wound was magically sewn shut before he directed his gaze to Siegfried, his vision blurring intermittently. Siegfried was humming to himself, rubbing the egg with the soaked cloth. He was smiling, excited, and his hands practically shaking. Too weak to turn away, Yuugi could only watch, trembling on his silicone mat.

“Huh,” Siegfried said and a sudden frown pulled at his face, “I should have known.” He sighed heavily, disappointed. “Your blood is too weak,” he said regretfully. “Nothing is happening. Seems as though I have no use for you after all – _oh.”_ His face lit up with delight and Yuugi watched in alarm as his blood began to vanish from the egg.

 _No – it's not vanishing,_ Yuugi thought apprehensively, _it's being absorbed._

Afraid, Yuugi watched the blood pull from the very cloth, leaving it even whiter than it was before. Stunned, he let out a breath and closed his eyes, head spinning. A crack like a gunshot, maybe thunder, echoed through the room and Yuugi was so weakened, that he could barely twitch in surprise. He peered out to see a crack in the egg and his face drained of color, a sickly feeling consuming him. There was another loud crack, then another. It continued endlessly until Yuugi swore he was in the middle of a firing range or a forest where all the trees were splintering with sonorous booms. Mouth dry and skin prickling with goosebumps, Yuugi grew still just as the cracks stopped, his stomach filling with dread.

Somewhere far away, Yuugi heard Leonhart scream.

“Siegfried!”

“Not _now,_ Leonhart!” Siegfried snarled, eyes transfixed upon the egg. “Come on.” He was breathing heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. “Come _on!”_

“Siegfried, get out here!” shouted Leonhart, closer than before.

 _Go,_ Yuugi begged, _and take that thing with you. Please!_

The egg shuddered and a smile spread over Siegfried's lips, thin skin pulling taut over his gums. A piece of shell suddenly shifted in place and Yuugi tensed, deeply afraid.

“They're said to grow like bamboo,” Siegfried muttered excitedly, “wings able to create hurricane winds, claws sharp enough to cut diamonds, scales hard enough to withstand _anything.”_

“Siegfried, help me!” Leonhart cried. “We've got intruders!”

But it was like Siegfried could not hear Leonhart. He was paralyzed with astonishment and joy, whereas Yuugi felt he would pass out at any second. Hope grew in his heart at the sudden thought of a rescue.

 _Please,_ Yuugi prayed, _let it be Juudai._

A shard of shell was pushed out to hang by a thin piece of purple membrane. The breath stilled in Yuugi's lungs then. Two glowing, silver orbs stared out from within and Yuugi knew in his gut that they were staring straight at him. Blinking, their eyes met and Yuugi's heart thumped harshly in his chest. His skin began to buzz, starting from his chest and spreading to the rest of his body like a warm puff of air. Breathing raggedly, Yuugi felt his eyes heat as they began to glow.

His shivering stopped.

“…What's happening?” Siegfried said, taken aback. “What are you doing? Why are your eyes doing that –”

Leonhart's agonized cry cut through his words and Siegfried gasped, as though in pain, his face screwing up with rage.

“Leonhart!” Siegfried roared. Whipping around, Siegfried stood, about to rush away when he froze, conflicted. Looking back at the egg, Siegfried's expression contorted with longing.

“Brother!” came Leonhart's terrified cry and it was enough to rip Siegfried's gaze away. He ran out of the old office then, presumably to Leonhart's aid. Opening his mouth, Yuugi was struck with the urge to speak, his entire body compelling him with a shudder.

“Timaeus,” Yuugi breathed, knowing in his heart, that that was the dragon's name, and the silvery eyes blinked in answer, the swirling color vanishing and replaced by two green, reptilian eyes. A beat passed in silence and Yuugi felt his strength drain out of him in an instant. As his mind beckoned him to darkness, Yuugi fought to stay awake. He blinked and it was like the egg exploded. Shards of shell scattered like the wind and a teal-scaled dragon with an aqua underbelly burst forth. The last thing Yuugi saw was the dragon squeezing past the iron bars, racing towards him, before his eyelids slipped closed and he surrendered to unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A third dragon? Who'd'a thunk? Looks like Yuugi's about to get bailed out of trouble, or possibly thrown into more trouble. Who knows. Surely not me. HA.
> 
> Take a second to let me know how I'm doing in the comments section below. Is the story holding up well? Am I missing plot holes? Is it hard to follow? Anything helps! I'm very grateful for all your kudos &lovely comments. Thank you very much for sticking with this work. ♡


	12. Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juudai, Atemu, and Yuusei arrive to the GPS location in search of Yuugi, but he is nowhere to be found. Stumped, the trio search for clues and eventually stumble onto some luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a butt-load of information in this chapter, so process with care. Enjoy!

“I don't understand,” Juudai whispered as he looked down at his phone. He confirmed the location and looked up, glancing around at his surroundings. “He should be here.”

It was dark and close to four in the morning. Juudai and Atemu were standing in the middle of an empty lot beside a shopping plaza, its stores long since closed. There was no Yuugi in sight and no movement aside from the trees swaying in the cold breeze. Both werewolves were straining their ears, looking around at the slush-covered ground. A raven soared overhead through the night sky, circling the deserted plaza before swooping down to expertly land on Atemu's shoulder.

“Anything?” Atemu asked, and the bird shook its head in an oddly human fashion. At the motion, Atemu emitted a loud, inhuman growl, upsetting the corvid into taking flight. It landed on the ground next to Juudai, wings flapping. Juudai barely caught the bundle of clothes Atemu threw at him then, nearly dropping his phone in the process. Sighing, he glanced around carefully before he crouched to place a long black coat over the bird.

In an instant, the lump grew into Yuusei. He pulled the coat close and shivered as he was handed the rest of his clothes. When Juudai turned away, Yuusei dressed underneath the coat, occasionally shaking the fabrics to dislodge the feathers stuck to his skin.

“You really didn't see anything?” Juudai asked weakly when he had finished.

Closing his eyes, Yuusei sighed and shook his head.

A choked sound left Juudai's throat as he looked down at his phone, biting his lip. With a sympathetic frown, Yuusei's warm hand found Juudai's shoulder and squeezed in comfort.

“I'm sorry, Juudai,” Yuusei said, “it doesn't look like Yuugi's here.”

“He has to be,” growled Atemu from ahead, and they turned to look at him. Atemu was not transformed at the moment, but he was fidgeting, anxious. It was only a matter of time before he shifted.

“This is where his phone's supposed to be,” Juudai said, grinding his teeth before closing the app and dialing his brother's number. He held his phone tightly as it dialed, eyes beginning to water.

Atemu heard it first.

He was running then and Juudai gave chase, following and watching as Atemu stopped before a dumpster next to the plaza wall where Yuugi's ringtone was emanating from. Then he was throwing the lid open and leaping inside. It took less than ten seconds for Atemu to emerge with a phone and a familiar messenger bag clutched in his hands. Jumping out, Atemu held the objects tightly. Juudai numbly gazed at the ringing phone before hanging up. He tucked it into his pocket and held out his hands to take the things.

Yet Atemu did not immediately hand them over. He stared as though he expected answers to come from them, the muscle in his jaw working tirelessly and his brow creased with frustration. But after a long, silent moment, he finally passed them over to Juudai, expressionless. Juudai whined in his throat, face crestfallen as he clutched at his brother's belongings. He stared at Yuugi's things as well, searching for a clue, a sign that Yuugi was alright. His hands shook as he unhooked the flap, opening it and rifling through the contents for a clue, fingers clenching on the canvas of the bag.

Inside, he found house keys, store receipts, eyeliner, lint, and some spare change. There was nothing else, no clues. He had found nothing.

“He's not here,” Juudai said desolately.

“Is there no trail?” Yuusei asked, and he absently peeled a candy wrapper from Atemu's sleeve, tossing it into the garbage. “There has to be something.”

“I can't smell him anywhere,” Atemu muttered bitterly, and Juudai sighed in answer. “All I smell is,” Atemu said and he sniffed the air with a grimace, “garbage, rot, and … _something_ – electricity?” He frowned. “Like that moment right before lightning struck the garbage can when we were kids.” He looked at Yuusei. “Do you remember?” Yuusei's brow furrowed, but his eyes brightened in recognition of the memory. However, before he could reply, Juudai spoke up.

“It's magic,” Juudai said, eyes narrowing as he identified the scent.

“Yuugi's magic?” Yuusei asked, and Juudai sniffed the air again.

“No,” Juudai said, brow furrowing, “that's not Yuugi's magic. This smells … bad.”

“Rotten,” Atemu confirmed.

“I think it's the witch who took him,” Juudai said.

“But it's too faint,” Atemu said, closing his eyes and taking a deeper inhale, “almost like –”

“They used a spell to conceal it?” Juudai provided miserably. “Yeah.”

Atemu growled in dissatisfaction.

“If only Seto had come to help,” he snarled. He clenched his fists, kicking violently at the ground. The asphalt cracked and Atemu moved away, a small fissure left behind. “He's a better tracker than me, and that's not an easy thing to admit.”

“…They're going to kill him,” Juudai breathed.

“No, they won't,” Yuusei said firmly, “Kaiba said waking the dragons only works with fresh blood.” He shook his head. “They can't kill him until they've used his blood for those two eggs, and Kaiba's tough, trust me. They won't be getting them easily.” He gave Juudai's arm, another encouraging squeeze and Juudai sighed, wiping his eyes with the back of his free hand before giving Yuusei a halfhearted smile. “We should go back,” Yuusei said, “keep those eggs close until that creep comes for them. We can set a trap –”

“Or,” Atemu interrupted, “I walk around until they come for me. They're bound to try again.”

“Atemu,” Yuusei said patiently, “don't be an idiot –”

“Wait,” Juudai said quietly, “do you smell that?” The brothers grew quiet and looked at Juudai as he closed his eyes and began to walk. Confused, Atemu and Yuusei followed closely until Juudai stopped to crouch. Opening his eyes, he reached out, under the green garbage container to pull a syringe out, fingers trembling. He raised it to his nose and took a tentative sniff. “Blood,” he whispered.

“Yuugi's?” Yuusei asked warily as Juudai pulled and pushed on the plunger.

“On the needle,” Juudai said sharply. “It's Yuugi's. But the blood inside it – it's mixed with _something,_ but it doesn't have any magic. It's human … that _asshole.”_ Standing, Juudai stomped his foot angrily. “That fucking asshole poisoned my brother!”

“Poisoned?” Atemu and Yuusei voiced their confusion at the same time, and Juudai growled, enraged.

“That rat bastard!” Juudai cursed, turning swiftly to punch the dumpster, denting it. He rubbed at his face, angrily wiping his tears away. “Human blood is lethal to fae!” He turned to Yuusei with pleading eyes. “Tell me he's not dead – tell me!”

“He's not dead,” Yuusei said resolutely as Atemu took the syringe from Juudai's hand. “He's needed alive, Juudai. They could have used it to subdue him.”

“Is that even possible?” Atemu asked, and Yuusei shot him a look. “Can they use the blood to subdue Yuugi?” He yanked out the plunger and sniffed, waiting for Juudai's answer. He suddenly frowned at the syringe.

“I –” Juudai shook his head, closing his eyes, “I don't know! It's not like we've ever poisoned him before!”

“There's a sedative in this,” Atemu said, and both Juudai and Yuusei looked at him.

“Then it's highly likely they used that to subdue him,” Yuusei said.

“I'm gonna kick whoever this guy is right in the throat,” Juudai growled. He quieted abruptly, head perking up. He turned his gaze to the road, and quickly grabbed both Yuusei and Atemu by their arms. As fast as he could, he yanked them behind the dumpster and pulled them both down into a crouch.

“What is it?” Yuusei asked.

“The sheriff,” Juudai mumbled as he peeked around the edge. He felt Atemu and Yuusei join him in looking out. Moments later, a sheriff's cruiser turned onto the road at the corner, coasting by. The windows were down, and even Yuusei could hear the radio crackling as it passed.

“What if we got the police involved?” Atemu suggested.

“And what are we supposed to tell them?” Yuusei whispered back. “Help us, our fae-slash-witch friend was captured by an evil witch or demon? This place isn't like your home, Atemu. It isn't run by our kind.”

The three of them pulled away from the edge. Eyes narrowed, Atemu turned on Yuusei.

“We could say that Yuugi was kidnapped,” Atemu argued, his voice hushed and a miffed expression taking over his face. “They have better resources and trained detectives. We're just out here bumbling around like idiots! We don't even know what the hell we're doing, Yuusei. _Professional_ help is better than _none.”_

“Atemu,” Juudai said quietly, “that's not a good idea. Even if they find Yuugi, what will they find? What if there's supernatural stuff going on? Innocent people could die – not only am I against that, but Yuugi would hate that too. And let's not forget that humans are a little unsympathetic to creatures like us. As soon as they find out what we are they'll pull out their pitchforks and form a mob – or scratch that, they'll put out their goddamn _guns.”_ He sighed heavily, running a shaky hand through his hair.

Juudai waited until the cruiser had gone past to leave their hiding place. Atemu and Yuusei followed with Atemu casting a frustrated glance in the direction the sheriff had gone.

“We need to find Yuugi ourselves,” Juudai said. He bit at his lip, trying to stop his trembling. To distract himself, he tucked Yuugi's phone into the messenger bag, pulling the strap onto his shoulder. “I really wish our parents were here. They would know what to do.”

“…Where are they?” Yuusei asked carefully.

“Faerie,” Juudai sighed. “Dad had to go back for a while and took mom with him. I have no way of contacting them. Only … only Yuugi can do that. And grandpa … grandpa doesn't have fae blood to contact them either.” Suddenly, he reached up, dragging his hands through his hair, expression twisting with a wince. “Cheese – he's going to kill us for getting involved in this.”

“I'm sorry,” Atemu said, brow furrowed and his demeanor disheartened. “This is my all fault.”

“I agree,” Yuusei said, and Atemu glared at him, but Yuusei did not retract his statement.

“No,” Juudai said, shaking his head, “it's mine. I shouldn't have ever said anything. I should have just kept my big mouth _shut!”_

“What do you mean, Juudai?” Yuusei asked. “How is this your fault?”

Juudai glanced at Atemu before looking to the ground and shaking his head. Atemu peered at him, eyebrows drawing together in a confused frown.

“It's not important,” Juudai said, waving a dismissive hand, “it's not going to help us –”

“Seems important enough that you're shouldering the blame,” Yuusei said, and Juudai sighed. He dropped his stance, shoulders slumping. For a moment, he looked at Atemu, chewing the inside of his cheek before he turned to Yuusei, sighing.

“I have Cupid's Sight,” Juudai mumbled. “At least, that's what my mom calls it. I … I can see things – like strings sometimes. They're like … vapor, I guess.” He raised his hands, trying to depict his words and shrugged. “Sometimes they're solid, like ribbons of light – almost like the Aurora Borealis. I'm still learning about it. I'm not very good at figuring out what the different forms mean, but if you've ever heard of the red string of fate, it's kind of like that.”

He glanced at Atemu again, brow puckered.

“I saw it when I met you,” Juudai continued, “it was only for a second, but I saw it surrounding you … and my brother. Like a ring.” He bit his lip. “I've seen something like that with our parents a couple of times, and I got really excited – I could have imagined it and it wouldn't be the first time. B-but I told Yuugi.” Juudai sighed heavily, shaking his head and closing his eyes. “I told him and now he thinks you're meant for each other or something!” Furiously, he wiped at his eyes before opening them. “It's all my fault. If I had just kept my big mouth shut, Yuugi wouldn't be taken and you –”

“I would be dead,” Atemu said solemnly, and Juudai looked at him with wide eyes. “Yuugi saved my life, remember?” he said. “Because you told him, Yuugi came to save me. It might be selfish of me to say it, but I'm glad you told him. I'm alive because of you … so maybe don't beat yourself up over it.”

“You're surprisingly calm about this,” Yuusei said to Atemu.

“I already knew about Yuugi's feelings for me,” Atemu said honestly. “I've had time to adjust –”

“It's one thing to adjust,” Yuusei said, “but it's another to be so completely blasé about it.” He raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Atemu looked away without an answer, which, to Yuusei, was an answer in itself. “You've certainly come a long way from hating witches,” he said.

“This won't help us locate Yuugi,” Atemu snapped, and Juudai blinked, a gasp leaving him.

“Oh, my god,” he said, “I'm an idiot.” The brothers looked at Juudai who smacked his forehead then, cursing. “I'm a fucking witch!” he exclaimed. “I can do a location spell!”

“Are you kidding me?” Atemu suddenly snarled. “What kind of fucking witch are you?” He started forward and Juudai's eyes widened, but Yuusei stepped in his path, halting him. Atemu hesitated, grinding his teeth before he finally relented and stepped back. “Why the hell didn't you think about this ages ago?” he snapped at Juudai over Yuusei's shoulder.

“I'm just a beginner!” Juudai retorted, returning to himself. “Forgive me if I'm not perfect! I'm still learning and I forget things!” But this was not a sufficient excuse for Atemu.

“You –” Atemu growled, attempting to go around Yuusei.

“Atemu, shut up,” Yuusei said, stepping between them once more. He looked at Juudai then. “Juudai, what do you need?”

“Everything I need is at the shop,” Juudai said with a glare to Atemu. “I just need to check the book.”

“The book?” Atemu said, bewildered.

“Family grimoire,” Juudai explained stiffly.

“Well, let's go,” Yuusei said, glancing to Atemu warily. “Let's go find Yuugi.”

* * *

Upon arriving at the shop, Juudai immediately, but quietly, led Atemu and Yuusei down into the basement, where he retrieved a tablet from under the workbench. Juudai switched it on, searching through it until he pulled up a PDF file. Clicking it, he waited for it to load while the brothers looked around in bewilderment.

“That part of the ceiling is see-through,” Yuusei said in awe, and Atemu glanced at it too before looking at Juudai.

“I thought you were supposed to be looking for a _grimoire?”_ Atemu asked, and Juudai shushed him, earning himself a scandalized look in return.

“Grandpa's asleep,” Juudai said, voice low. “If he wakes up, we're all dead.”

“Shouldn't you wake him and tell him what's going on?” Yuusei ventured, looking back at him. “He could help us find Yuugi.”

“He can't,” Juudai said, shaking his head. “If he learns Yuugi's missing, he'll be so worried he might have a heart attack and die – but not before he kills me for letting Yuugi get involved in this mess.” He looked at Atemu. “And then _you_ for starting it all.”

Atemu nodded in understanding, though his disgruntled expression did not leave his face.

“I could take him,” Atemu muttered childishly.

“Seriously?” Yuusei said disapprovingly.

“You'd fight a defenseless, old man?” Juudai said with a squint of his brown eyes. “That says a lot about you.”

“Defenseless?” Atemu hissed. “You're the one saying he'd kill me!”

“Well, he'd find a way!” Juudai argued back, his voice hushed. “But he's just a feeble, old man, Atemu.”

“He's not werewolf like you?” Atemu asked, and Juudai shook his head.

“I'm adopted, remember?” Juudai said. “I'm the only one. Gramps was born of witches, but he didn't get the gift.”

“Juudai, the tablet?” Yuusei spoke up, directing him back to the matter at hand.

“Oh, yeah,” Juudai said, looking back to the device in his hands. “The grimoire itself is really outdated and too heavy to lug around, so Yuugi rewrote it and digitized it.” Juudai shrugged like it had been a piece of cake. “It only took him a couple of years,” he added. “We keep all our spell books in this and in the Cloud, but I don't have the password to download it and mom told Yuugi to put a spell on this so it can't leave the house. The books themselves are under lock and key.” He pulled up an index and Atemu turned his face away, contemplative.

“That's really smart,” he said.

“Yuugi's the smartest witch I know,” Juudai said softly. “He's a real natural with magic. Like a fish in water. He might even be better than mom, but he's not as strong.” A small meow alerted the three and they turned.

“Is that supposed to be a cat or a small mountain lion?” Yuusei asked.

A large cat with a silky, chocolate coat and large, violet eyes sat on the stairs, its long bushy tail waving idly.

“Hey, Kuribou,” Juudai greeted the large, furry feline. He looked at Yuusei. “That's my familiar, _Hane Kuribou_ – I just call him Kuribou for short. He's technically a demon, but he likes to take the form of a cat. Thinks he's hilarious since I'm a werewolf _and_ a witch. Two jokes in one form.”

“Familiar?” Atemu questioned.

“Demon?” Yuusei asked.

“Um … he's not a bad demon – or a demon in the traditional sense,” Juudai shrugged. “There's all kinds. He's sort of like my magical guide-slash-companion-slash-protector?” Juudai shook his head, sighing. “Yuugi explains it better.”

“What's Yuugi's?” Atemu asked curiously.

“Yuugi … doesn't have one,” Juudai said uncomfortably. “He hasn't found his. It's supposed to be really hard to find your familiar. Mom doesn't even have one. Most witches don't, according to her. I met mine when I accidentally set fire to her dress. He popped right off her skirt and we bonded. Dad almost drowned her trying to put the fire out. They said I had summoned him. They were proud, but I was still grounded for like a week.”

“Bonded?” Yuusei asked.

“It's difficult to explain,” Juudai mumbled, “we just connected – Yuugi's so much better at this than I am.” His expression fell and he sighed, pausing in his typing.

“I'm sure you're better than you think,” Yuusei said, “and don't worry, we're going to find Yuugi. We won't stop looking until we do.”

For his words, Juudai gifted Yuusei a grateful smile. He then turned back to the tablet, tapping at it and looking a little more determined than before.

“A bond with a familiar isn't voluntary for witches,” Juudai said, scrolling through the pages. “We only get the one. The creature we're meant for either chooses to bond with us, or they don't. The bond itself, it's … well our magic seeks out our familiar, like a call. They accept by letting the magic in – that's how mom explained it – and it ties us together. We're brothers, Kuribou and I – but different from Yuugi and me.” Juudai paused, as though recalling a memory. “Mom says that as long as our familiar lives, we do, but if we die, our familiar can live on to bond with someone else.” He returned his attention to the tablet, making a satisfied noise before setting it down. “But sometimes they die too, of broken hearts.”

“So, if Kuribou dies,” Yuusei said, expression worried.

“Oh, don't worry,” Juudai said with a smile, “Kuribou is basically immortal. Unless someone knows how to kill a demon … which you can't do.”

“Wait, so then how do you get rid of demons?” Atemu interrupted.

“You stick them in a portal,” Juudai said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “It doesn't hurt them, it just sends them back to their netherworld – can't do that with Kuribou though.” He laughed. “Dad tried to when Kuribou ruined his favorite coat – he was _so mad._ But Kuribou just came back with the smuggest grin on his furry little face. Since he's bonded to me, he uses me as a tether to this world, so he can never be banished.” Kuribou meowed then, moving to leap onto the workbench where he sat, purring and suspiciously self-satisfied.

“Grin?” Atemu said skeptically.

“Kuribou's original form is a fur-ball with green legs and wings,” Juudai said, and he pressed the tablet against his chest as he waved his hands in front of him to insinuate the limbs. “He can even take human form, but he can't talk. Mom and dad don't think he'll ever be able to.” Juudai shrugged. “Doesn't matter because I always know what he's thinking, right Kuribou?” Kuribou nodded and it was the oddest thing either Yuusei and Atemu had ever seen.

“What if you don't get a familiar?” Atemu asked carefully.

Immediately, Juudai saddened and he shrugged.

“If your familiar rejects you or you never meet them,” he said, “you're basically human with some magical powers.” His brow furrowed as he thought it over. “You're more vulnerable to magic and your life shortens to a fifth of what you would have lived. The usual life expectancy of a witch with a familiar is about a thousand years.”

Yuusei and Atemu stared at Juudai in surprise and disbelief.

“Werewolves only live half of that,” Atemu said indignantly.

“How long do fae live?” Yuusei asked.

“Technically, forever,” Juudai said.

“Technically?” Yuusei questioned.

“It depends,” Juudai said, face twisting in thought. “If they're not killed, they eventually turn into trees, but I'm not really sure if that counts as living.” He shrugged, moving around the area and pulling a large metal box from one of the shelves. He did not notice the identical expressions of shock gazing at his back. From within, he withdrew a crystal, stared at it and put it back before choosing another, smaller one, roughly oval in shape.

“Dad says the oldest he's met is about eleven-hundred-thousand years old in human's definition of time,” Juudai continued. “Says she's been sitting in the same place for a couple thousand years or so and that she won't speak to anyone unless you've got something really interesting to tell her.” He hummed and turned around, lifting a finger. “But she's only eleven-hundred-thousand if you're here looking over there,” he said. “In Faerie, time moves really differently. Watches and anything man-made won't work there. It's impossible to measure time. You could go for fifty years and come back to find out you were only gone a second. Or you could go for a day and miss years here. It's really weird. So that lady could be like a teenager for all we know.” He frowned. “Dad says he's about three-hundred, but with the way he acts, you'd think _he_ was a teenager.”

“So trees?” Yuusei said, and Juudai nodded as he began to look around the shelves again.

“Yep,” he replied. “Fae are children of the forest, that's why Yuugi smells like lavender. Dad smells like persimmons.” Juudai frowned to himself as he opened a box, peering in. “Anyway, when they've had enough, they find a place and plant roots … literally. And it can be whenever they want, too.” He turned somber then. “As far as I know, they don't turn back.”

“Being half a witch, will Yuugi turn into a tree?” Atemu asked, his voice oddly level and without inflection. Juudai looked at him, but Atemu's expression gave nothing away.

“We don't know,” Juudai said with a shrug.

“If fae can live forever,” Yuusei said, “why aren't there more here? Why are they so rare?”

“Oh, fae _hate_ it here,” Juudai said obviously. “Too much iron and pollution. They can't really stand this world. Dad's only here because he likes the food, and he and mom don't want to uproot the whole family.”

“Have you ever been there?” asked Yuusei. “To Faerie?”

“Nah,” Juudai said, “no one will let me go. They say I'm going to end up indebted with the food.” He grimaced.

“Indebted?” Atemu asked as Juudai went to another shelf, searching until he unearthed a ball of twine. He cut a length of string and brought it over to the table with the crystal before rummaging around underneath.

“If you eat their food,” Juudai said as he searched, “you owe them. Fae are all about deals and debts and repayments. It's not just food, though. Nothing is free with them. Basically anything that can be considered a favor counts – I guess that's where some of their bad reputation comes from. It actually depends on how close you are to them too. The stronger bond you have, the less they need to barter. But like contract demons, they always collect no matter what, but _unlike_ contract demons, they may never tell you what it is they'll take.” Eventually, Juudai emerged with a map of the town. He unfolded it on the table and Kuribou moved out of the way as Juudai flattened it with wayward jars.

“So you're saying,” Atemu said slowly, “that I owe Yuugi?” His brow furrowed and Juudai glanced at him, suddenly understanding what Atemu was thinking.

“Oh, no,” Juudai said quickly, “you don't owe Yuugi anything.” He hesitated, thinking. “I mean, yeah, Yuugi has that same urge to keep things even, but the witch part of him dulls that by a _lot._ So he deals with that part of himself by using the shop – the whole selling and accepting money thing. It's like therapeutic for him.” He shrugged, and Atemu's jaw clenched, expression darkening before he looked away. Juudai opened his mouth to say more, to undo whatever conclusion Atemu had come to, but Kuribou meowed for his attention. They did not have time for that. Sighing, Juudai turned back to his task with a furrow in his brow and trepidation in his heart. Taking up the crystal, he tied it to one end of the string and held out his hand. “Kuribou,” he called, and the cat meowed as it trotted over. Using a needle, Juudai pricked Kuribou's paw, smudging the blood upon the crystal. When he was done, Kuribou licked its paw idly. “Thanks, buddy.”

Taking a deep breath, Juudai hovered the crystal over the map, holding it by the other end of the string. Closing his eyes, Juudai slowed his breaths and the gem began to swing. Slowly, Juudai moved his hand over the map, starting from their position on it. Atemu turned back, expression unchanged, and Yuusei watched intently, trying not to breathe or disturb Juudai. The gem continued to circle the map without hesitation and Atemu's brow furrowed with doubt. The longer it took, the more his uncertainty grew, the line of his lips thinning grimly. As the gem neared the edges of the map, Atemu grit his teeth and scowled.

 _We won't be finding Yuugi this way,_ he thought.

Abruptly, Kuribou meowed and Juudai dropped his arm, the gem bouncing across the map. Gulping, he opened his eyes. They were teary and pained as he glared at the paper.

“I know,” Juudai said to the cat, “I'm being blocked.”

“Blocked?” Yuusei voiced.

“This map is of the entire town and the surrounding woods,” Juudai explained unnecessarily, “it should have worked. So unless they've taken Yuugi out of town, something is blocking his presence from being found. Kuribou just confirmed it.” The cat meowed sadly then, moving to rub his head against Juudai's stomach. Taking the cat into his arms, Juudai sighed. “I can't find him,” he said glumly, “and I've tried everything.”

“What about a crystal ball or something?” Atemu suggested, and Juudai frowned at him.

“Crystal balls are for fortune telling, not locating,” Juudai said. “And you never know what it'll show you. It might not be what you want to see.”

“Then it's plan 'B',” Atemu said, hands clenching into fists, “we use me as bait.”

“Atemu,” Yuusei said, “don't be an idiot. We have the eggs –”

“Do you _really_ think Seto's just going to _let_ us borrow the eggs to set a trap?” Atemu asked rhetorically. “No, we do this without him or the eggs and we do this now.”

“You know,” Juudai said, expression brightening with an idea, “we don't really need the _actual_ eggs to set a trap.” He set Kuribou back on the table and grabbed his tablet once more, flicking through an index. “I'm pretty sure I've seen a spell that can create replicas – we can use that to replicate the eggs.” As he searched, the phone in his pocket began to ring. “Could you get that?” Juudai said distractedly, and Yuusei reached into Juudai's pocket, hesitating when Kuribou's purple eyes fixed upon him. He pulled the phone out, deciding to ignore the cat's intense stare. Looking at the screen, Yuusei frowned.

“Number's not registered,” Yuusei said to Juudai. “Do I answer it anyway?”

“Sure,” Juudai said, and Yuusei proceeded to answer.

“Hello?”

 _“Yo, this Juudai?”_ said a man on the other end.

“No,” Yuusei said, “he's currently unable to answer –”

 _“Really gotta talk to Juudai, man,”_ interrupted the other person, his voice anxious. _“It's kind of really important?”_

“He's kind of busy with something equally important,” Yuusei said. “May I take a message?”

 _“Well,”_ the voice said, wavering. _“I feel like my thing might be more important. This might not make any sense to you, but could you tell him I got an injured err – I dunno – a blue elf? Fairy? And an angry dragon, and I really don't know what to do with either of them –”_

“Wait, dragon?” Yuusei asked abruptly before Juudai grabbed the phone out of his hand.

“Yuugi!” demanded Juudai. “You've got Yuugi? This is Juudai! I'm Juudai!”

 _“Juudai?”_ the voice asked. _“Oh, good. Hey, my name is Katsuya Jounouchi and I got a fairy here. He's pretty roughed up … uh, the dragon won't let me near him and he's unconscious, but it told me to call you.”_

“Dragon?” Juudai said with bafflement. “What dragon?”

 _“Uh, yeah,”_ Katsuya said uncertainly, _“I thought you would know. I'm pretty shocked myself. Didn't know they were a real thing.”_

“Has it hurt Yuugi?” Juudai asked anxiously.

 _“The fairy?”_ Katsuya asked.

“Yuugi,” Juudai corrected, “and yes.”

 _“No,”_ Katsuya replied, _“I mean, he's already hurt, but the dragon's not hurting him. It's just kinda sitting on him … creeping me out. Can you get over here? We're at some abandoned warehouses – I'm hoping you know where that is. Kinda new here. North of town, I think. You know them?”_

“Yeah!” Juudai said. “I'm on my way!” He hung up then, looking at the wide eyes of both men with him.

“Dragon?” Atemu said disbelievingly.

“Another one,” Yuusei said, “and hatched. What if it's a trap?”

“Doesn't matter,” Juudai said, “we're going.” He hesitated then before shaking his head. “Actually, _I'm_ going. Neither of you have to come –”

“I'm coming with you,” Yuusei said immediately, “count me in.” They waited a moment before looking to Atemu who nodded.

“I owe him,” Atemu said shortly, and Yuusei rolled his eyes. Juudai, on the other hand, felt his heart sink in his chest at Atemu's words.

“Alright,” Juudai said, gulping down his dread, “let's go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy, Jounouchi's here! (Did y'all really think I would leave him out of this fic.) Now I bet y'all are wondering how in the hell Timaeus knows Juudai's name and number. Can't say for now. Thanks for reading!
> 
>  
> 
> **Important: I have a new twitter solely for fic stuff! Y'all might wanna[re-follow me](https://twitter.com/uglybuffet)! ;) **


	13. The Rescuers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While scoping out the warehouse district, Juudai begins to notice a reckless streak in Atemu. Also, the trio meets the group that saved Yuugi and earns some new allies in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what, guys? It's the anniversary of Morality! One year ago today, I posted the first chapter of this fic, and today I post the 13th (which is just a coincidence. I honestly didn't plan it - but it's a happy coincidence!)
> 
> So Happy Anniversary and Halloween! Eat lots of candy.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

“Maybe we should go, Katsuya,” said the nervous brunette, stepping away from the cage where the blue dragon hissed menacingly at him. His voice was thick, his nose swollen red and stuffed with tissue. He moved over to the safety of the wall where a shorter man with blonde hair stood. Shivering, he pulled his brown leather jacket closer to himself.

The blonde, Katsuya, shook his head as he pried apart the bloodied slash in his jean jacket and the sweater below to check the bandages on his bicep. Eyeing it with narrowed brown eyes, he quickly stopped his fussing and crossed his arms with a wince. The two Japanese men stood inside the abandoned office with the iron cage where Yuugi lay, unconscious and haphazardly covered in a white, wool blanket. “It might be small, but we don't know what that thing can do.”

“Take Shizuka with you and go,” replied Katsuya as he peered at the cage from his place against the wall, “I'm staying until I know for sure this guy'll be fine. I'll meet you at the closest motel.”

“There's just the one, a bed and breakfast,” the other man informed him. “And really?” He cast a skeptical grimace to Katsuya. “With Miss Cheapskate?”

“You really wanna stay here after dealing with those guys, Hiroto?” Katsuya retorted. “We're springing for the room. It's not safe here.”

“Yeah, alright,” Hiroto grumbled. “But _you_ tell Mai to pony up.”

“Hey,” Katsuya said, glancing quickly at his wary friend, “try to take her with you too –”

“If you really think I'm leaving,” said a humored voice from the doorway, “you've got another thing coming, bub.” Looking around, Katsuya spotted a tall, blonde woman as she stepped inside, flashlight in hand. Her long, golden curls were held back with a single hair tie, a few golden ribbons escaping from their hold to frame her heart-shaped face. She did not have a single scratch on her, though one arm of her purple jacket was smudged with dirt. Clicking the handheld off, she tucked it into her belt loop, unnecessary with the battery-powered lamp on he floor. She slunk forward, nearer to the cage, and the dragon hissed a warning, its sea-foam green eyes narrowing on her. She paused, holding her hands up in a show of surrender.

“Don't worry,” she said to the skittish dragon, “I'm not getting any closer.” In response, the dragon lowered its head, watching her with suspicion. “How fascinating,” she murmured, hand touching her chin in contemplation, “a dragon.”

“I thought you were waiting for that Juudai person,” Katsuya said, and she shrugged.

“Shizuka's waiting,” she replied nonchalantly, and Katsuya's eyes widened. He dropped his arms, pushing off the wall to stare incredulously at Mai.

“You left my baby sister _alone?”_ he snapped. “She can barely see!”

“She can protect herself better than you two combined,” Mai retorted with a shrug, but Hiroto was already darting out the door. “Men,” she sighed as she turned to the door, “y'all need to realize that Shizuka ain't a fragile little flower like you think. She may be losing her sight, but the girl has sharp ears and can pack a punch with that staff.” She turned back to the cage and tilted her head in consideration, eyes roaming over Yuugi's blue skin. She focused on the sickly wrinkled brown of his arm, pity in her gaze. “This guy, on the other hand…”

“She's my only family, Mai,” Katsuya groused, reluctant to let the topic drop. “It doesn't matter if she can dropkick the damn _Terminator_ into the sunset. She's still my baby sister and I'll always worry about her.”

“Indeed,” she remarked, seemingly bored with the conversation. She was carefully examining Yuugi, whom the dragon was perched upon. She pursed her lips and hummed thoughtfully. “Fae are really rare,” she said lowly to herself, “I've never even met another before. And dragons … they're not even supposed to exist.”

“Yeah,” Katsuya said, “must be some kind of omen.”

“I don't believe in omens,” Mai said dismissively. She tried to step closer and the dragon leapt to its feet, flashing its fangs. She backed up, smiling. “Testy,” she said, and the dragon turned away. She watched with curiosity as the dragon tugged at the blanket with its teeth, pulling it higher over Yuugi's arm. It turned to stare at Mai as she covertly slid closer, its green eyes unblinking. It hissed again in warning and then continued to fuss with the blanket. Mai hummed before turning her attention to Katsuya who looked concerned at her proximity to the cage. He fidgeted, fingers twitching at his side as though he would reach out and pull her back. “They're supposed to be really fickle, fae are,” Mai said, unconcerned with him. “Make sure Shizuka stays out of this room. She's twenty, but she might still look like a child in his eyes what with her being so petite. There are countless stories of children who were taken by them. Wouldn't want her whisked off to Faerie.”

“Don't even joke,” Katsuya said tightly, and Mai smiled sardonically.

“I'm not,” she said.

“You can't possibly know that,” Katsuya said. “You're fae too anyway. How can you say that about your people?”

Mai smiled at him, but it did not reach her eyes.

“And you remember how well our first meeting went,” she replied with a pointed arch of her eyebrow. Katsuya frowned at her.

“But you changed,” Katsuya said. “You even joined us. And you've never even met other fae, or even been to Faerie! That's what you told me, so there's no point in arguing because you don't _know.”_

“Jounouchi,” Mai said with a sigh. “Stories all have a kernel of truth in them. I may never have stepped foot in Faerie, but the stories all indicate the same thing. Fae are trouble. Just because I changed doesn't mean _he_ has.”

“Well, I don't think he's up to whisking _anybody_ off to Faerie,” Katsuya said stubbornly with a pointed glance at the cage. “He really doesn't look good.”

“Don't look so worried,” Mai said. “For all we know, the world is better off without him. Maybe he deserves to be in that cage.”

“Mai, enough,” Katsuya said. “I'm not going to make snap judgments based on what he is. Those stories are just that … _stories._ I took a chance on you and you're one of my best friends now. There's nothing monstrous about you, Mai.”

“Alright,” Mai said with a shrug. She turned her gaze away, but her shoulders relaxed. “Here's hoping,” she muttered. Looking back to Yuugi in the cage, her gaze softened with pity. “I wonder what those guys did to him.”

“Creeps,” Jounouchi said with narrowed eyes. “Wish I'd taken a bigger swipe at that human.” He rubbed at his chin, wincing as he pressed on the large bruise there.

Mai laughed, magenta eyes lighting up with glee.

“Oh, I would have loved to see you try,” she said, placing her hands at her hips cockily. “That kid would've taken your head off if I hadn't saved your ass.”

Frowning, Katsuya scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning back against the wall.

“I had it covered,” he muttered.

“Sure you did,” Mai smiled, and Katsuya frowned at her. She looked away from him, shifting uncomfortably on the spot. Pulling down on the ends of her skirt, she huffed. “I should'a worn pants,” she complained.

“Told you,” Katsuya said. “But you never listen to me, do you.”

It was not a question.

“No, I don't,” Mai mused with a humored smile.

“He's here.”

Turning, Mai and Katsuya looked to Hiroto who stood in the doorway, a short redhead with a staff in her hand standing at his side. She walked over to Katsuya who put his arm securely around her shoulders. Hiroto cleared his throat and made his way inside, motioning behind him. Three men walked in, and Katsuya pushed away from the wall, holding out his hand to greet them. But before he could even get out a word, two of the men, a redhead and a brunette, rushed past him and to the cage.

* * *

Standing against the brick wall, in the alley between two warehouses, Juudai peered around the corner with a frown. He looked behind him, eyes and ears straining for sound or movement. However, there was no one close by. Gazing back into the large lot, Juudai pushed away from the wall. His path to the woods was clear. Taking a deep breath, he glanced around one more time before he sprinted across the pavement, eyes looking all around and Yuugi's messenger bag bouncing against his side.

He quickly darted into the woods, peering out behind a tree at the old buildings. Silently, he crept just out of sight, looking through the trees. The warehouse sector was located at the edge of the city and it abutted the forest where Juudai now took cover. He rounded the district along the treeline, freezing when a ghastly smell made it to his nose. Pinching his nostrils shut, he followed the stench to what seemed to be a grave if the smell was any indication. The earth was loose, recently dug. It occurred to him with a start that this was the final resting place of the ghoul. It was difficult to forget that particular smell and it was all the proof he needed or even desired. He sure as hell was not about to confirm it by digging it up.

Frowning and lungs aching for breath, Juudai quickly left the area, grateful when he could finally breathe. He headed to the very back and last warehouse where he took pause, looking around a tree to the entrance of the building. He turned his head at the sound of quiet footsteps to see Atemu silently make his way over. Raising two inquiring eyebrows at him, Juudai jerked his head in question. Atemu was transformed, claws and fangs out. With a shrug of his shoulders, his features were human once again.

“I don't hear anyone besides those two at the entrance,” Atemu said quietly, and Juudai gaped at him.

Waving an urgent hand, he held up his phone and pointed to his ears. In response, Atemu rolled his eyes.

“If they can hear as well as us,” Atemu said, “they already know we're here.” He looked out to the warehouse. “But I doubt it. I've been listening to their heartbeats – they're steady.”

Grimacing at him, Juudai also looked out to the closest warehouse one-hundred yards away. Outside was a girl with reddish-brown hair. She was short and wore black leggings, beige boots, and a thick white sweater with a pink vest over it. Beside her was a tall brunette man with what appeared to be a broken nose. He wore a leather jacket, jeans, and sturdy boots that had seen better days. They stood beside an old 1983 Chevy G20, and the girl held a staff in her hand, her poise stiff and on guard. The man beside her was in much he same position, though he held no weapon of his own.

“I found the ghoul,” Juudai whispered. “Well, _a_ ghoul. I don't know if it was the same one that attacked you. It's buried. I think they did it.”

“You dug it up?” Atemu questioned.

“Hell no,” Juudai said. “Smells the same, though.” He pointed to the strangers. “Think it's safe to go up to them? It's just two of them and there's three of us.”

“It might be a trap,” Atemu muttered with a frown.

“True,” Juudai said, “there could be a spell keeping anyone inside hidden.” He sniffed the air. “I smell more people. And that magic we smelled by where we found Yuugi's phone – it's here.” He frowned.

“One of them's got a gun,” Atemu input. “It was fired recently. I can smell the gunpowder.”

“Yeah, I can too,” Juudai mumbled back at him. “He's human, but she isn't. I can't tell what she is, but she has some kind of magic. You were easy to figure out, but I've never smelled whatever she is before.”

Atemu tilted his head to look at the sky, his brow furrowing.

“It'll be dawn soon,” he said. “If we're doing anything, we need to do it soon while we still have darkness to cover us.”

Behind them, there was a whisper of wings, and they turned to see a raven swoop behind some bushes with a rustle. After a moment, Yuusei appeared behind them, shivering and covered in feathers. He brushed them off, hugging himself.

“Did you see anything?” Atemu asked.

“Could I have my clothes first?” Yuusei rebutted with a shiver.

Juudai pulled the clothes from Yuugi's bag, handing them over the bushes to Yuusei.

He dressed quickly, huffing in the cold.

“Anything?” Atemu pressed, and Yuusei cast him an annoyed glance, but answered regardless.

“Nothing much,” Yuusei said. “He's got a gun tucked under his belt at his back. There were no windows to see inside the warehouse, though.”

“Wait, shh!” Juudai hushed him, turning and straining his ears. He pointed to the pair at the entrance.

“How's your nose?” said the redhead, turning slightly towards the brunette.

“Could be better,” he replied. “At least it's better than the time that wendigo blindsided me.”

The redhead laughed abruptly.

“I think most things would be,” she replied. “I remember that, though. Not my fondest memory.”

“Mine either,” he replied and cleared his throat. “It's been a while. You think he's coming? Katsuya said he sounded like a kid.”

“Well, I don't know about that, but I heard something rustling in the bushes over there a minute ago,” replied the girl, and Juudai cursed softly when she motioned to where he, Atemu, and Yuusei stood. “Could be that Juudai person we're waiting for.”

“Let's find out,” replied the brunette. He raised his voice, calling out. “Anyone out there?”

“It could also be that witch again,” the girl added, and the brunette cursed colorfully.

“Now you tell me,” he said with a groan.

“What are they saying?” Yuusei asked as he walked over to Atemu and Juudai, crouching with them. His arms rapidly rubbed at his arms and legs to warm them as he continued to shiver.

Juudai distinctly felt Yuusei lean on him, undoubtedly to leech warmth, but the blush that suffused his cheeks could have lit up a lighthouse. He was thankful when Atemu drew their attention.

“They heard _you_ making a racket,” Atemu bit out, and Yuusei leveled an unimpressed look at him. “I'm going. I don't care if it's a trap.”

And before anyone could stop him, Atemu was marching out of the forest and towards the two waiting outside the warehouse. They stiffened at the sight of him, but neither made any move, hesitating.

“One day,” Yuusei muttered into Juudai's ear, “he's going to get shot for being an idiot.”

 _Concentrate, Juudai,_ Juudai admonished himself. _Bigger things to worry about._

“You mean he hasn't yet?” Juudai asked wryly, and Yuusei smiled at him in amusement. “We should go after him,” Juudai added, looking away from Yuusei's face.

“If it's a trap, we should hang back and see what happens,” Yuusei suggested.

Juudai nodded, biting his lip as Atemu came level with the strangers. He kept a good distance between them, his stance wary.

“Don't do anything stupid, Atemu,” Yuusei warned.

“Are you the one we're waiting for?” the young woman asked Atemu.

In answer, Atemu extended his arms away from his body, palm up, and summoned his claws. In the bushes, Juudai groaned and Yuusei sighed.

“What did I just say?” Yuusei said.

“That depends,” Atemu said to the woman. “Do you have my fairy?”

“Stop calling him that,” Juudai hissed, and though he was sure Atemu heard him, he received no indication he had.

“What is it?” Yuusei asked.

“Atemu's a butt-head,” Juudai mumbled. “He keeps calling Yuugi a fairy.”

“Butt-head,” Yuusei agreed, and Juudai returned his focus to Atemu and the two strangers.

“We're not looking for trouble,” the man spoke up, holding up a hand to keep Atemu at bay. “We just found him. He was being held by a witch, a human, and a ghoul. They attacked us and ran off when we overpowered them. We can lead you to your fairy if you like. Our friends are inside, keeping an eye on him and the dragon.”

“Who exactly are you?” Atemu asked.

“I'm Shizuka Kawai,” said the girl. “He's Honda. Hiroto Honda. Could you put your weapons away? We mean no harm, Juudai.”

“I'm not Juudai,” Atemu said, and both Hiroto and Shizuka looked taken aback by his words. “Juudai is in the bushes waiting to see if it's safe.”

Back in the bushes, Juudai groaned.

“Your dumb brother just ratted me out,” Juudai said to Yuusei, and Yuusei sighed.

“Of course he did,” Yuusei said.

“He's just way too reckless,” Juudai said in concern. Huffing, he took a deep breath and stood. “I'm going. No use hiding now.” He left his hiding place and he heard Yuusei follow.

“So who are you?” Hiroto asked Atemu.

“A concerned party,” Atemu answered shortly.

Shizuka and Hiroto shared a look.

“You mind putting those claws away, _concerned party?”_ Hiroto said. “Meant it when I said we weren't looking for trouble. All we did was find the guy you're looking for.”

With a shrug, Atemu retracted his claws.

“Thanks,” Hiroto said.

“Lead the way,” Atemu replied, and Hiroto blinked at him, nonplussed, before he looked over at where Juudai and Yuusei were approaching. Clearing his throat, he took Shizuka by the hand and lead her before him into the warehouse. Juudai and Yuusei quickly caught up, entering the building just behind Atemu.

The warehouse was dark and damp, and the only source of light was Hiroto's handheld. The air inside was heavier, humid. There was machinery shoved against the walls, large and complicated with many rods and pulleys. The cement floor was surprisingly clean but covered in a thin layer of water. Somewhere, there was a steady _drip, drip, drip_ of a leak.

The three followed Hiroto and Shizuka to the far end of the building, pausing when they reached a door. Without hesitation, Hiroto opened it, walking inside.

“He's here,” Hiroto said.

“C'mon,” Atemu muttered to Juudai and Yuusei, and they went in, eyes wildly searching for Yuugi.

Juudai spotted him first.

“Yuugi!” cried Juudai, running forth and grabbing at the bars. He yelped and immediately pulled away from the metal. Stepping back, he was confused as he looked at the angry red of his hands. “What the hell?”

“Enchanted iron,” Mai said to him, “especially strong. We would have opened it and gotten him out, but that dragon won't let us near.” She looked at each of them in turn. “So which one of you is Juudai?”

“That's me,” Juudai said absently, staring at his hands before raising his gaze to look into the cage. His eyes widened in disbelief. The dragon within eyed him carefully from its spot on Yuugi's chest, curled protectively over his heart. Behind Juudai, Atemu stilled for a moment before stepping forward, ignoring the hiss that was sent his way. Grabbing the door, Atemu braced a foot on the side and pulled. Muscles straining in effort, the cage shifted on the dolly, the metal screeching as it bent. Atemu continued to tug even as the dragon bared its fangs menacingly. Abruptly, the door ripped from its hinges with a loud crack.

Mai let out a soft sound of surprise.

“You could've just broken off the lock,” Yuusei mumbled, but Atemu pretended not to hear him.

“Full-blooded werewolf, I'm guessing?” Hiroto said cautiously, and Atemu looked at him, tossing the door aside like it was nothing. It hit the floor with a reverberating and heavy bang.

Atemu did not reply.

“Uh, we should probably introduce ourselves,” Katsuya said, moving away from the wall once more. “I'm Katsuya Jounouchi and this is my little sister, Shizuka, who you've already met.” He motioned to Mai next who saluted lazily. “She's Mai Kujaku” – he pointed to Hiroto who nodded – “and you've also met Hiroto. We found the fairy this way –”

“His name is Yuugi,” Juudai interrupted, breaking out of his daze to to frown. “Don't call him a fairy.”

“Oh, right, sorry,” Katsuya said, disconcerted for only a second. He nodded. “Sorry,” he repeated. “We found Yuugi this way. The two creeps who had him had to … retreat.”

“Which is the polite way of saying we kicked their asses,” Mai said triumphantly. “We're nomads. Just looking around when the ghoul engaged us. Guess we got too close to their little base.” She waited for acknowledgment from any of the three men, but Juudai had noticed the brown wrinkled arm sticking out from underneath the blanket and seemed too stunned to speak. Atemu, on the other hand, was too angry to care about who was speaking. Facing the cage, he growled low in his throat. In response, the dragon inside was recoiling, readying to strike.

“Atemu,” said Yuusei when Mai's expression turned from smugness to concern, “maybe it's better to let Juudai go first.” He then turned to Mai and engaged her, holding out his hand. “Forgive our rudeness, my name is Yuusei Fudou,” he said as she smiled and shook his hand, “the grumpy werewolf over there is my brother, Atemu Muuran. Juudai is Yuugi's younger brother.” He glanced to Katsuya next, holding out his hand to greet him as well. Katsuya walked over obligingly, taking it in a firm shake. Shizuka followed, smiling kindly. “We're grateful for your help.” Yuusei paused then, frowning. “You said there were two? A ghoul?”

“A human, a witch, and a ghoul,” said Hiroto then, moving to Mai's side so as to be in Yuusei's line of sight. Yuusei shook his hand too and Hiroto nodded at him. “Like Mai said, the ghoul attacked us while we were looking for a place to squat,” he explained. “We dispatched it and then the human came out and began to attack. We had no choice but to defend ourselves. The witch showed up a while afterward – the boy called him Siegfried. But once he saw the boy was injured, he took him and ran into this building. We followed, but they were both gone when we got in. We've searched the premises, but they haven't turned up. We also buried the ghoul out in the woods. Friends of yours?”

“Not really,” Yuusei said, watching as Juudai slowly approached Yuugi. “It's a long story,” he said. “The short version is that they're trying to kill my brother and hurting innocent people along the way.”

Juudai reached Yuugi without incident and the dragon paid him no mind, keeping its green gaze upon Atemu. It did not even react when Juudai took Yuugi into his arms, careful not to jostle him. The dragon slipped underneath the blanket then, curling up on Yuugi's chest as Juudai carefully lifted him out of the cage.

Yuugi did not so much as twitch. He was as still as death.

“Your brother ask for this witch hunt?” Mai asked, and Yuusei looked at her. She held up her hands. “Just wanna know who're the good guys,” she said.

“My brother's an asshole,” Yuusei said, “but he hasn't done anything to warrant this _witch hunt.”_

“So why're they after him?” Katsuya asked skeptically.

They watched as Juudai carefully cradled Yuugi, pulling the blanket neatly around him. Yuusei looked to Katsuya, but it was Atemu who answered.

“My family fucked up,” Atemu said. “So they're taking it out on me. There's no good guys in this story.”

“You said the dragon spoke?” Yuusei derailed.

Katsuya nodded, his curious eyes on Atemu's back. It was obvious he wanted to know more.

“Sort of,” Katsuya said, “it's more like it whispered in my head – pretty creepy actually. Mainly just said things like 'stay away', 'Juudai', and that phone number – which, I mean, I never thought I'd ever get a phone number from a dragon, much less meet one in person.” He shrugged, watching as Juudai joined them. “Anyway,” he said, “if we're done here, we should get going –”

“You said you were looking for a place to stay?” Atemu spoke up from behind Juudai. He seemed calmer than before. At least, his features were human and his claws tucked away. He moved around to stand by Juudai, eyes scanning Yuugi's face. They came to rest upon the raw burn on Yuugi's cheek, and his jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” Katsuya said.

“I've got room,” Atemu said, barely sparing him a glance. “It's the least I can do for helping Yuugi. You can stay as long as you like. Although, I should warn you that those guys are targeting me and you might be caught in the crossfire.” As Juudai shifted, Atemu followed closely, eyes intent. Yuusei, noticing this, only sighed.

Looking to Katsuya, Mai raised her eyebrows, and Katsuya shrugged.

“It'd be better than a bed and breakfast,” Hiroto muttered.

“We should help,” Shizuka spoke up quietly. “They're hurting innocents. They even attacked us. It's pretty clear they're the bad guys.”

“It's not our business, though,” Katsuya replied. “And we need to get you to –” He broke off as Shizuka tightly squeezed his arm with both hands. “Hey, alright!” Katsuya winced, and he looked at Mai, nodding.

In turn, Mai called to Atemu.

“We'd be grateful,” Mai said with a nod, “thank you. We'd only be staying for a couple of nights while we replenish our supplies. We can also lend a hand to your little problem while we're here if you want. We're all experienced fighters.” But Atemu was no longer listening, his attention solely on Yuugi. Yuusei moved forward, nodding to her when she frowned.

“We'd be glad to have you,” Yuusei said. He lowered his voice then. “Sorry about my brother. He has … issues.”

“Oh, it's alright,” Mai said, her voice equally hushed as she waved an indifferent hand. “I get it. Werewolves are very protective of their mates.” Beside her, her teammates nodded in comprehension.

“Yuugi isn't his mate,” Yuusei replied.

“Oh, sorry, I just assumed,” Mai said with a sheepish chuckle. “Packmate then.”

“Yuugi's not pack either,” Yuusei said.

“Oh,” Mai said, blinking. She nodded in understanding. “So when you said 'issues', you meant _issues.”_

Yuusei nodded.

“Juudai,” Atemu said as Juudai began to move to the door, “what's wrong with him?”

“He's been poisoned and bled,” Juudai said through gritted teeth. “The dragon says he needs rest and he will take care of the poison.”

“The dragon says?” was Atemu's skeptical response.

“Yeah,” Juudai said and he did not elaborate.

Furious, Atemu clenched his hands, breathing deeply before he finally looked away from Yuugi. He turned back to Yuusei.

“I'm going after them,” Atemu said. “There's enough smells here to track them.”

“Atemu,” Yuusei said, and Atemu shook his head.

“Don't even try to stop me,” Atemu said. “I can get rid of them once and for all. They'll never hurt anyone else again –”

“Atemu, they have _magic,”_ Yuusei said.

“I don't give a _damn_ what they have!” Atemu snapped. “I can't let them hurt anyone else! I won't lose anyone else!”

“Atemu,” Juudai called, and Atemu turned. He had paused in the doorway, and Atemu faltered at Juudai's angry and determined expression. “I want to go after them too.” He breathed heavily. “Believe me, I want to get them too, but” – he looked down at Yuugi, his expression twisting into sadness – “Yuugi comes first.” He shook his head. “We don't even have a plan. Let's just go back and heal Yuugi. _Then_ we can fight back.”

“But –”

“Please,” Juudai begged, eyes tumultuous. “I swear we'll get them. But right now Yuugi needs help.”

Wavering on the spot, Atemu's shoulders fell, his jaw flexing in reluctance. He breathed deeply through his nose, slowly reigning himself in. Though still tense, he nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “Let's get Yuugi back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who said I could write a fic where Kaiba shows up but Jounouchi doesn't? It just ain't possible.
> 
> Mai is fae, the cat is out of the bag.
> 
> Timaeus is no threat, but that little dragon doesn't seem to like anyone but Yuugi and Juudai.
> 
> Also, Atemu seems to be going through something that the others have yet to pick up on.
> 
> Bonus: Atemu didn't know there was a lock (on the cage) until Yuusei pointed it out.
> 
> Happy Halloween.


	14. The Hero's Conundrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone heads back to Atemu's home where things seem to settle for the moment. Unfortunately for Atemu, however, there are things he still needs to contemplate - like what exactly he plans to do once he's caught up to Siegfried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks and shoutout to RisuAlto for reading through this chapter and providing some much-needed feedback to spin this straw into gold.

Katsuya's van smelled extraordinarily like sage.

That was the first and _lasting_ impression the vehicle left on Atemu. Little could distract him from his thirst for the evil witch's blood, but the herbal smell overpowering his nose was definitely one thing that could. And it was what Atemu chose to focus on as he rode in the, quite literal, _bed_ of the van. In the back, underneath hiking packs, gear, and what seemed to be the strange group's entire life, was a futon that, despite still carrying the factory smell of its packaging, had suffered through various snags. Hanging along the edge of the roof was a string of fairy lights, currently disconnected.

Atemu's nose itched.

Driving them was Katsuya with Yuusei riding shotgun and providing directions to Atemu's home. Seated comfortably in the backseat were Shizuka, Mai, and Hiroto, which left Atemu, Juudai, and Yuugi in the rear. Atemu sat with his back against an uncomfortable pile of plastic boxes, stuffed between the backseat and Juudai. Beside him, Juudai leaned against a mountain of blankets, clutching Yuugi close and expression dour with worry.

Atemu could feel Juudai's unrest, similar to the anxiety he had expressed in the basement before Katsuya's call. But where that Juudai had babbled on as he moved about, unable to keep quiet in his worry, this Juudai went beyond that. He seemed incapable of breathing even a single word.

Atemu sympathized. He, too, was rather concerned with how badly Yuugi had been hurt. He could not imagine the extent of what Juudai was feeling, seeing his brother in such a way. The rabid uselessness Atemu felt was burning him on the inside. They did not yet know the extent of what had been done to Yuugi, and Atemu was not sure he wanted to know.

His gut clenched in anger.

 _I should have gone after them,_ Atemu thought viciously. The mere thought that they had dared touch Yuugi at all made his blood boil. _I should have stopped them while I had the chance._

But at the sound of Yuugi's whimper, Atemu returned to the present, his attention shooting to where Juudai was checking Yuugi's arm.

“You'll be okay,” Juudai whispered to his unconscious brother, a tremble in his voice. He pulled the immobile body close. “I've got you, big bro.”

“He'll be alright, Juudai,” Atemu voiced, his tone surprisingly calm despite the fury seething inside him. Juudai looked at him with a tremulous gaze, and Atemu forced his anger at bay. “We're almost there.” Juudai's entire being shook as he breathed, his face pinched in desperate worry. He nodded at Atemu's words, looking back to Yuugi and releasing his shuddering breath.

 _They need me more,_ Atemu realized, and he felt himself begin to relax against the boxes. _I'll get those bastards soon enough._

“Y-yeah,” Juudai said, and he cleared his throat. He nodded again. “Yeah, he'll be alright,” he said, and his voice was firmer, stronger. He was calmer than a few seconds ago, reassured by Atemu. “Thanks.”

Atemu nodded, the bitter ache in his gut easing.

They passed underneath a street light, and the back was momentarily illuminated through the window opposite them. Atemu's hand was on Yuugi's ankle, clutching it securely, but not harshly. Yet Atemu did not seem aware of his hold on Yuugi. His attention was all around them, ears twitching as he carefully listened to their surroundings.

Juudai looked away.

Shifting, Atemu reached a hand behind himself and pried out the thing that had been poking his side ever since he had settled in. Pulling it out, Atemu frowned at the hardcover binder.

It was a photo album. He set it aside, sighing when something fell out of it. He grabbed the object, a photograph, and peered at it. By the dim light Shizuka's phone cast from the backseat, Atemu could clearly see it was a picture of her and her brother, Katsuya, standing between what he assumed to be their parents, in front of a new, brown 1985 Lincoln town car. They were very young in the photo, Shizuka a mere toddler. Katsuya, as he was now, was the spitting image of his father, albeit younger and with kinder eyes. In the picture, the man frowned, one hand tucked into his jean pocket and the other held stiffly by his side. He wore a necklace, a single pearl on its thin chain. It did not suit the man, too short on his thick neck. On the other side of the children, their mother stood with a loving hand on Shizuka's arm, but her smile was stolid, barely there.

Atemu tucked the photo between the pages of the album without another thought.

The dragon had remained largely still and quiet on Yuugi's chest, just a lump underneath the blanket and sweater. The only signs of life it had given was the hisses of annoyance when Juudai had disturbed it during his examination of Yuugi's wounds.

“We're going to need some more supplies,” Juudai said to Atemu in the dark of the van. He pulled Yuugi closer, tucking his head underneath his chin and cradling him gently. “Like bandages and disinfectant. I can't heal like Yuugi. I can barely handle cuts and bruises.”

“One of us can go out for more,” Atemu murmured.

“Okay,” Juudai said. The van began to rock as they turned onto the dirt road to Atemu's house.

“Sorry,” Shizuka spoke up from the seat beside Atemu, “I couldn't help but overhear.” She turned and smiled sheepishly, the light of the phone in her hand shining across her face. Her greenish-brown eyes blinked slowly, her gaze slightly unfocused. By the way she stared at them, it was rather clear she could not see them. “We have to pick up some supplies for ourselves,” she said. “We could grab your things too, no problem.” Turning, she reached a groping hand behind Mai's back and nudged Hiroto, startling him from the brink of sleep. “Isn't that right?”

Hiroto glanced back at them, clearing his throat and nodding.

“Sure,” he said. “Whatever Shizuka says.”

“Thanks,” Juudai said with some relief. “I wasn't looking forward to leaving Yuugi.”

Nodding in reassurance, Shizuka made to turn back when Juudai made a small interrupting sound. She looked expectantly in his general direction.

“So what are you?” he said. “If it's okay to ask.”

Shizuka gifted him a friendly smile.

“It's okay,” she said. “My brother and I are _kitsune_.”

“Kitsune?” Juudai echoed. “Like foxes, but in Japanese? Japanese werefoxes?”

“Not really,” Shizuka said with a laugh. “See, we're a bit different than your typical werefox. _Weres_ start out human and learn to shift into the animal. We started out as foxes and learned to shift into humans. Also, weres don't have magic. We do.”

“What kind of magic do you have?” Juudai asked, fascinated. He unconsciously tugged Yuugi closer in his anticipation, earning a small, miffed growl from beneath the blanket. “Is it like witch magic?”

“No,” Shizuka said with a shake of her head, “we're not like witches. We have what we call _fox fire._ We create illusions with it.” Holding out her hand, palm up, a small flame appeared. Unlike regular fire, it was ocean-blue and it did not burn the same. Instead, it flowed upwards in gentle waves like water, ghost-like and mesmerizing. With a puff of her breath, it vanished and Shizuka dropped her hand.

“That's pretty cool,” Juudai said, and Shizuka nodded at him.

“It comes in handy,” she said coyly.

“What about Mai?” Juudai asked, and Shizuka turned to glance at Mai who was leaning forward through the gap between the two front seats. She was berating Katsuya for his driving and chatting with Yuusei at the same time.

“Oh,” Shizuka said. She looked back at Juudai. “Mai's fae like your brother there.” Juudai's eyes widened in surprise, but Shizuka continued before he could speak. “She's a valkyrie,” she said, and Juudai's face paled. “Or a harpy, depends on what you believe. Either is fine. She usually prefers valkyrie, though.” She shrugged and Juudai stared at her.

“You mean she's a messenger of death?” he squeaked, pulling Yuugi even closer to himself, and Shizuka laughed. Another growl escaped the blanket.

“Oh, don't worry,” she said. “Mai's harmless, especially if she likes you.”

“Shizuka, what are you doing — _put on your seat belt,”_ Katsuya chided from the driver's seat, and Shizuka sighed before turning back and doing as her brother had said.

The silence resumed as the van trudged along, axles squeaking as they went.

“Holy cheese,” Juudai muttered, and he leaned further into the blankets.

It was not long after that that they pulled up to Atemu's house, rounding towards the front where Katsuya parked.

Juudai said nothing as Atemu quickly pulled his hand from Yuugi's ankle once the lights came on, though the curiosity did not cease to bubble into his throat.

One by one, they tumbled out of the van to stare at Atemu's house in the light of the coming dawn. Atemu missed their awed expressions as he hovered near the back door to the van, eyes scanning the border of trees for movement and ears strained for the slightest sound. When Juudai emerged from the van with Yuugi, Atemu walked forth, pulling his keys from his pocket as he went.

He led them inside and stood by the door as they entered, grabbing Katsuya and Mai's attention as the other two of their group passed through to the living room.

“Mai, Katsuya,” Atemu said and, facing the stairs, he motioned down the hall to the right of the staircase. “There's two bedrooms down here. They're the only ones I've managed to semi-clean. I'll help with the rest —”

“Oh, we can manage,” Mai said, and when Atemu opened his mouth to protest, she indicated the living room where Juudai was carefully laying Yuugi on a sofa. “You have other things to worry about right now.”

“Don't worry about us,” Katsuya added. “We'll be fine. We've got everything we need in the van. We might just need your washing machine.”

All it took was one glance at Yuugi for Atemu to give in.

“Alright,” Atemu conceded. He pointed to the left of the stairs. “It's in the basement, first door by the fireplace. You'll find cleaning supplies down there too.”

Katsuya and Mai nodded at him, and Atemu continued.

“The light switch is busted,” he said. “I haven't gotten around to getting it fixed, so you'll have to turn the light on manually at the bottom. I suggest you use your flashlights to get down there, and just pull on the chain.” He motioned back to the hall on the right. “Bedrooms are the two doors on the right. Bathroom's the first door on the left.”

“Thanks, Atemu,” Mai said, and she smiled at him before calling to the other two. “Honda, Shizuka, come.” She motioned to them and led them down the hall, but Katsuya stayed. He cleared his throat.

“I wanna say 'thanks',” Katsuya said, and Atemu turned to him, “for letting us stay here. Yeah, it's dangerous and we're taking a risk, but you didn't have to offer up your place.”

“It's the least I could do,” Atemu said. “Without you, we probably wouldn't have found Yuugi.” He looked away from Katsuya, his jaw clenching. “Thank you for finding him.” And without waiting for a reply, Atemu left him in the foyer, venturing into the living room to Juudai.

“I'll clear a room for Yuugi,” Atemu said, and Juudai looked up from where he was setting up a first aid station on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Juudai said automatically. He caught himself and pulled away from his brother with a sigh. “And thanks … for not taking off. For staying.” He quickly returned to his brother, eyes intent as he examined him.

Nodding, Atemu took one long look at Yuugi's relaxed face and went to Yuusei who was slipping a torch of newspaper underneath the fresh logs, holding it there until the flame caught.

“When you're finished,” Atemu told him, “meet me upstairs.” Once more, he did not wait for a reply before he left Yuusei to tend the fire.

Minutes later, Atemu stood before a door, hand on the knob and wavering in his resolve. Taking a deep breath, he looked around to see Yuusei coming down the hall towards him. He squared his shoulders then and opened the door.

“You're helping me clean,” Atemu said, and Yuusei nodded.

“Sure,” he replied.

They walked in together, and Atemu took an abrupt pause at the sight of the neglected room. The furniture was covered in once-white sheets, littered with years of negligence. Yuusei glanced at him, noting the furrow in his brow and the far-off look in his eye. Undoubtedly, Atemu was someplace else.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Atemu muttered, though Yuusei barely heard him through his stiff jaw. “It's just … this used to be my room.”

It was more than obvious then that Atemu was revisiting his childhood, whatever little he could recall. Yuusei looked around, finally noticing the faded zoo animals stenciled onto the walls, and a sympathetic pang struck him. Having just lost his parents, it could not have been easy for Atemu to stand in the room where they had likely once stood together as a loving family. He turned back to Atemu, a compassionate sentence already crawling to the tip of his tongue.

“Atemu —” Yuusei said, but that was all he could get out.

Without preamble, Atemu went around the room, pulling the sheets from the little furniture, ripping them off with a tight grimace. He barely looked at what lay underneath, a small dresser, a child-sized desk, a room divider, and a full-sized bed. His brow was pinched in restraint, and his hands clenched on the sheets.

Yuusei noticed. And even after the years they had spent apart, he could read Atemu well enough to recognize what he wanted. His brother was not looking for sensitivity or a shoulder to cry on. Atemu wanted to gather himself and soldier on. So when he forcibly looked away from the room to dump the sheets in the corner, Yuusei made his way to the door.

“I'll get the broom and stuff,” he said. “Back in five.”

Atemu did not reply, and Yuusei left, leaving him to his mourning.

* * *

Yuusei did not return in five minutes. In fact, Yuusei waited until Atemu's guests had finished cleaning their own rooms before he started up the stairs with the cleaning supplies. He carefully set everything down just outside the door and looked in.

Atemu stood before the bed, a hand on a corner post. His shoulders were low and he did not move as Yuusei walked in to stand beside him. Atemu had likely heard him coming from the moment he stepped on the first stair. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Atemu's shoulder, squeezing gently. When Atemu turned to look at him, Yuusei handed him one of two shirts he had retrieved from a basket in the basement. The other, he wrapped around his head in a makeshift mask, and Atemu followed his example.

“Thanks,” Atemu muttered, and Yuusei nodded.

Together, they cleaned up the room and readied it for habitation with barely a word to one another.

Once they completed the task, Yuusei left to alert Juudai, and Atemu went to retrieve the heater from his bedroom. But when Juudai brought Yuugi up to the room, Yuusei did not return with him. As Juudai passed, Atemu got a whiff of the green goop Yuugi used on him. It was just as unpleasant as the first time he had smelled it.

Juudai set Yuugi down on the clean sheets and turned to Atemu who was crouched before an electric heater.

“Thanks for this,” he said.

“Sure,” Atemu said as he turned the dial on the heater. He straightened and watched it begin to heat up before he turned. His eyes immediately went to Yuugi, frowning at the familiarity of the clothes he now wore. Approaching the end of the bed, Atemu's stomach flipped with recognition.

“Yuusei said it was okay to use your clothes,” Juudai said, following his gaze. He motioned to Yuugi. “Yuugi's were pretty much done for. Got those from the laundry room. Is it really okay?”

“It's fine,” Atemu replied automatically.

He did not feel fine.

His stomach was doing strange things and his head was buzzing with unintelligible thoughts. It was chaotic and he did not know how to feel about it. It was _his_ shirt and _his_ flannel pants on Yuugi's small frame. In his pack, sharing clothes was common. Hell, his closet currently doubled as Yuusei's more often than not. But there was something quite different about sharing clothes with someone outside of his pack.

For starters, it felt far more personal.

It reminded him of the first time Yuusei had tried sleeping in his bed after he had hit what his family had playfully called “werewolf puberty”. Though Yuusei was pack, it had felt invasive, like a personal offense. His poor brother had ended up on the floor that night. With the commotion they had caused, Atemu's mother had checked on them, calmed him down, and laughed when he had told her what had happened. That was when Atemu learned that puberty usually made a werewolf territorial of their sleeping spaces. Atemu had not been happy to learn that. Yuusei had to sleep in his own bed from then on, and it had taken forever to get the smell of him out.

This feeling in his gut felt like then, but it was not exact.

He watched as Juudai covered Yuugi with the comforter, frowning to himself.

While the situation felt similar, invasive, it was not quite offensive. His stomach continued to flip and his skin buzzed with a strange need. Whether to take the clothes or not, he could not tell. He could not place it, and that frustrated him. When he had offered Yuugi his bed the previous afternoon, he had been too preoccupied with his injury, the evil that threatened him, and Yuugi's exhaustion to give it too much thought.

It had not helped that he had found himself undeniably disarmed by the bewildering thing that is Yuugi in the process.

Belatedly, he realized he did not mind, and that left him deeply perturbed.

“You sure?” Juudai asked. “I could find something else if it's not okay…”

“It's fine,” Atemu repeated.

He was not fine.

“I'm going to check on the others,” Atemu said. “You should get some sleep.” He quickly departed the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Atemu found Yuusei in the living room, speaking lowly to Hiroto. They stood by the windows, and Hiroto was pointing to them, explaining their disadvantages. Atemu approached, and Hiroto cut off, looking to him. Yuusei turned as well.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Atemu said, “just wanted to ask my brother if he wanted a room.”

“I'll take the couch, Atemu,” Yuusei promptly replied. “I like it better.”

“Alright,” Atemu said, “if you're sure.”

“Don't worry about me,” Yuusei said. He gestured towards the stairs. “You should get some sleep. We'll be keeping an eye on things down here.”

“Not tired,” Atemu said, and he meant it. “And no offense, but neither of you have my hearing. The only person who comes close is about to get some sleep. You both should rest as well.”

“I know you're not a fan of help,” Yuusei said, “but we can help, Atemu.”

“We can take turns keeping watch,” Hiroto said. “It's no problem.”

By the thinning of Atemu's lips, it was definitely a problem for him. Yet Atemu closed his eyes in acceptance and sighed.

“Fine,” Atemu said. He turned, making his way to the kitchen. “I'm making coffee.”

“Atemu,” Yuusei said as he followed, “this Siegfried guy — Hiroto was telling me more about him.”

“Just observations from our brief encounter,” Hiroto input, making his way over as well. “Though it's not much.”

“But it might be helpful to know,” Yuusei said.

“Very well,” Atemu said as he quickly washed out the coffee pot. He placed it in Yuusei's outstretched hand and turned to Hiroto, crossing his arms. He leaned against the counter. “I'm all ears.”

* * *

It was eight in the morning when Atemu made his way up the stairs with a cup of coffee in hand. His brother had fallen asleep soon after their discussion about their enemy, leaving him sitting in the kitchen with Hiroto, their only source of light that of the fire. They had sat in silence with Hiroto keeping an eye out the window and Atemu listening to their surroundings. But after a couple of hours, Atemu had decided to check on Juudai and Yuugi. He could hear them perfectly well from the kitchen, sleeping away, but that was not enough to rid him of a nagging feeling in his gut.

Making his way to the door of the room where Yuugi and his brother resided, Atemu placed his hand on the knob. Very much like before, his stomach was in knots and he did not move any further. Stilled, Atemu stared down at the handle, his brow furrowed as he recalled a time when the door had seemed so much bigger, his head barely past the height of the knob.

 

 _“What are you doing out of bed, little lamb?”_ he could hear the echo of his mother whisper from down the hall, a memory long past.

 _“I'm a wolf, not a lamb,”_ Atemu had argued, trembling from head to feet in his wool onesie from a nightmare that had woken him.

 _“Is that so, my little cub?”_ his mother replied. _“I'm sorry. Are you okay?”_

_“I'm scared, mommy.”_

Staring at the metal clutched in his fist, Atemu grit his teeth at the memory.

 

_“I'm scared.”_

Footsteps crunching through the snow ripped Atemu from the past to a screeching halt in the present. Lifting his head, Atemu closed his eyes and listened carefully as the footsteps grew steadily closer to his home. Opening his eyes, Atemu let go of the door and quickly departed the second floor. He rushed down the stairs and to the kitchen where he found Hiroto fast asleep in his chair, head thrown over the back of it at an awkward angle.

He frowned.

“He's slept in worse places,” a hushed voice said behind him, and Atemu turned to see Katsuya sitting on the couch adjacent to Yuusei's, slouched and sipping from a mug that Atemu was sure had been used by Hiroto only minutes prior. “Just leave him,” Katsuya said, “he'll be fine —” He straightened at the look on Atemu's face and set the mug on the coffee table. “That's not a happy face, what happened?”

Silently, Atemu pointed to his ears and then to the windows, indicating beyond them. Comprehension crossed Katsuya's face and he stood, nodding.

“How many?” he asked quietly, and Atemu held up a single finger.

Katsuya nodded again and stood, alert.

“I'll wake —” he began to say, when Atemu shook his head, holding out a hand in a halting motion. Katsuya quieted in understanding, though he tensed.

Slowly, Atemu made his way to the door, lightly prying the curtain away from the window to peer through. Minutes later, however, he frowned and sighed in a grimace.

“You can relax,” Atemu said as he dropped the curtain and unlocked the door. “I know who it is.”

“You sure?” Katsuya asked as Atemu walked over to the table and sat, leaning back comfortably.

“I'm sure,” Atemu said. “Brace yourself.”

“Brace myself?” Katsuya said warily. “Brace myself for what?”

Atemu sighed.

“You'll see,” Atemu said cryptically, and Katsuya stared at him, aghast.

“This ain't the time to act all deep and mysterious,” Katsuya admonished sharply. “Tell me straight, is my family in danger or what?”

Looking to Katsuya and his righteous anger, Atemu shook his head, a chagrined grimace to his lips. He felt like a scolded child.

“Sorry,” Atemu said. “I didn't mean for that to sound ominous —”

“Yeah, ya did,” Katsuya interrupted unapologetically. “You just forgot that we ain't in a situation for playful mischief.” He raised his eyebrows at Atemu, watching as Atemu blushed in embarrassment. Katsuya shook his head, waving a hand to brush his awkwardness aside. “Don't matter. What's out there. Who's coming?”

Clearing his throat, Atemu recomposed himself. It had been a while since he was around someone wiser than him. For more than two months, he had been the oldest person in the room, the most knowledgeable. And though Katsuya reproached him, a strange kind of relief settled into Atemu's stomach, a familiar sense of safety that came with being near someone who knew what they were doing. An experienced person who knew their world and how to navigate it. A weight that he had not known was there gradually lifted from Atemu's shoulders. He could breathe easier.

He did not feel as alone as before.

Facing Katsuya, he shrugged.

“My cousin,” Atemu said shortly, and just the mention of him had his hands clenching on his knees. “He'll be here in a couple of minutes. He's not very friendly, sort of an asshole, actually. But he's not dangerous as long as I'm around. Nothing to worry about.”

“'As long as you're around'?” Katsuya echoed. He frowned. “I'd say that sounds pretty damn worrisome.”

“Don't worry,” Atemu assured him, raising a hand and waving it. “I'll make sure he knows better than to start something.”

“Thanks,” Katsuya said. “It would be very comforting to not have to watch our backs along with our fronts.”

Mere minutes later, Atemu stood from his chair and went for the door just as a shadow appeared beyond the curtains. With a noticeable stiffening of his shoulders, Atemu turned the knob and opened it.

“Seto,” Atemu murmured in greeting.

There was no reply as he stepped back from the door and Seto walked in, long white coat brushing his ankles and metal case in hand. He immediately halted in the kitchen, his cold blue eyes shooting to Hiroto's sleeping figure in the wooden chair. Eyes narrowing, he turned on Katsuya next before he finally looked to Atemu.

Undeterred from Seto's less than friendly greeting — factually a plain and glaringly scathing glance, Katsuya stepped forward. A kind smile spread across his cheeks and he outstretched a welcoming hand to Seto, completely ignoring the dismissal he had just been cast.

“Hiya,” Katsuya said. “The name's Katsuya Jounouchi.”

But Seto did not turn his way, addressing Atemu alone.

“A fairy and a halfbreed weren't enough,” Seto said, not bothering to lower his voice, “now you've brought _more_ strays into your father's home.”

“Hey,” came Katsuya's offended snap, and though he barely reached Seto's nose, he stood toe-to-toe, defiant. “Who you callin' a 'stray', you walking-talking beanpole —”

Atemu intervened before Katsuya could go on. The situation devolving into a brawl was exactly what he needed to prevent even if it burned him to listen to Seto's disparaging remarks. He cursed Seto's unfailing ability to piss off every sentient creature within a ten-foot radius.

“That's _enough,_ Seto,” Atemu said through gritted teeth. “You don't have to agree with my choices, but you're going to deal with them. Back off or we're going to have a problem.”

In the moment that Seto looked at him, Atemu saw defiance and fury, but what struck him most was the hint of acidic resentment in those cobalt eyes. It caught him off guard. While Seto had always had a prickly personality, Atemu had never felt that his cousin hated him. But as he stared Seto down now, Atemu felt, not the stab of his cactus persona, but the distinct sting of gut-twisting hatred.

Atemu could not breathe. The air was sucked out of his lungs by an involuntary kick of his diaphragm upon the realization that his own flesh and blood despised him.

Closing his eyes and relaxing from his stiff form, Seto backed down, but Atemu's shock remained.

With a scoff, Seto went for the coffee machine, unbothered by Atemu's statement. He brushed past Katsuya, purposely overlooking him as he served himself a cup.

“Nice to meet ya,” Katsuya muttered bitterly.

“I see you've managed to rescue the fairy,” Seto said as he set the coffee pot back into place. Undoubtedly, he could smell Yuugi's presence.

“Yuugi,” Atemu corrected, crossing his arms as he pulled himself together. Something in his gut stung, and no matter how many times he tried to brush it off, Atemu felt it deeply. “Katsuya did, actually,” he said, indicating his new, albeit miffed, ally. “He and his group found Yuugi and fought off the witch.”

“'Fought off',” Seto said, sipping from his cup. He grimaced at the taste before leveling a narrowed glare on Atemu. “You mean you haven't disposed of this witch?”

“It's still on my to-do list,” Atemu bit out.

“It was a simple task,” Seto rebutted, and Atemu frowned at him.

“Simple —” Atemu began, but Seto interrupted.

“In fact, it was your _only_ task,” he said.

“My task?” Atemu scoffed. “Let's get one thing clear,” he hissed, “I'm going to get rid of this witch, but it won't be because you said to. I'm doing it for my own reasons.” He clenched his hands. “You don't order me around, Seto. You'd do well to remember that.”

“Would I?” Seto idly said, but it was a rhetorical question.

“You _would,”_ Atemu answered regardless. Glancing to Katsuya, he cleared his throat. “We'll be upstairs. If you need anything, there's no need to holler. I'll hear you if you just say my name.”

When Katsuya nodded at him, Atemu turned to Seto, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs. He waited, unwilling to lead the way. After what he had seen in Seto's eyes, Atemu would be damned in he ever turned his back on his cousin.

It took a while for Seto to start walking, his gaze hard and his instincts telling him the same thing Atemu's had told him. But his arrogance won out, and Seto led the way with Atemu following at a distance.

* * *

Several hours later, it was nearing noon and Atemu quietly paced the length of the hall on the second floor of his large home. Occasionally, he looked to the door he continually passed with a furrowed brow. Outside, it was snowing again and Atemu could hear branches creaking with the weight of the piling flakes. He had grown fed up with waiting in place, his legs growing more restless in the presence of his silent cousin. Eventually, the anxiety with his entire situation had culminated on his being and he had given up. Standing from his spot on the bottom stair, he had begun pacing the length of the hall of the second floor while Seto seemed perfectly content leaning against the wall, eyes closed in an apparent meditative stance.

That was how Yuusei found them ten minutes later. Atemu pacing in his agitation and Seto calmly leaning against the wall across the door from Yuugi's room. Yuusei sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes minutely.

“Atemu,” Yuusei said, cup of coffee in hand, “have you even gone to sleep yet?”

“No,” said Seto from where he leaned. His eyes were open and watching Atemu with boredom. Though the house had warmed considerably with the constant use of the fireplace downstairs, he still wore his white coat, only it was open, revealing a black turtleneck and equally black pants underneath.

It seemed odd to Yuusei.

While werewolves abhorred the cold, even Atemu, who hated it more than most, was only wearing a long-sleeve. How Seto could stand what had to be an oppressive heat within his coat was beyond him. However, Yuusei paid it no mind.

At Seto's side, sitting idly on the floor, was the metal briefcase. Yuusei's eyes went to it, and Seto moved, his leg shifting minutely closer. Sighing, Seto sipped from the mug in his hand, mouth curling with distaste.

“He's been at it for hours,” Seto said. “It would be admirable if not for the fact he's so fitful over a _fairy._ I still can't figure out what's so interesting about such a cursed creature.”

A snarl left Atemu's lips, but he did not stop pacing.

“His name is Yuugi,” Yuusei corrected, translating Atemu's snarl, but Seto ignored him. His focus was on Atemu alone.

“Pathetic,” Seto commented idly, and Atemu froze, turning to stare intently at the door where a sudden muffled commotion had sprung forth. With a rise of his eyebrows, Seto sipped some more at his coffee. Lowering the mug, he said, “Extremely pathetic.”

“What's happening?” Yuusei asked as the panicked shouts continued.

“The fairy has woken,” Seto said, ignoring Yuusei's frown with a sigh as Atemu moved to the door, hand reaching for the handle, “he's under the impression he's still captive — ah, now the halfbreed is awake and consoling him.”

Yuusei's frown turned into a glare and Atemu took the handle with hesitation, gaze unfocused, as though he were staring through the wood and to the bedroom beyond.

“They have names,” Yuusei said, but Seto went on as though he had not heard.

“He's calming down,” Seto continued, “and … he's gone back to sleep.”

Atemu let go of the handle, jaw clenched and expression downcast. He abruptly stepped away from the door and moved back to the wall as it opened. Out came Juudai, looking tired and ruffled with sleep.

“Well,” Juudai said, rubbing at his tired face, “he woke up —” Seto snorted, and Juudai frowned for a second before he continued. “But then he fell asleep again,” he said with a heavy sigh, hands clenching at his sides. “I can't wait to find those assholes.”

“Juudai,” Yuusei said quietly, “keep calm. We still need to come up with a plan.” He shrugged then. “Anyway, we have more help now with Katsuya and Mai's group.”

“Kitsune, a human, and whatever _she_ is,” Seto spat from the sidelines. “Like there wasn't enough filth in your father's home.”

“My father's _dead,”_ Atemu growled suddenly, turning to glare at Seto, “and unless you want to want to join him, you'll shut up and stay in your lane.” Bristling, Seto snarled at Atemu, fangs flashing, and Atemu responded by summoning his claws, teeth gritted but otherwise steady.

Yuusei moved closer to Juudai, watching the posturing werewolves carefully.

“The only reason I'm still here,” Seto said lowly, “is to kill the witch threatening _my_ pack.” His hand tightened on the mug in his hand and it was so quiet then, that even Yuusei heard the tiny clink of the cracking porcelain. But the mug did not shatter and Seto's hold on it softened. “You would not even know of the witch if not for me,” Seto said smugly.

“No,” Atemu said with a hard stare, “the only reason you're still here is because I'm _allowing_ your presence in _my_ home.” He looked Seto up and down, calculating. “But that will quickly change if you continue to disrespect my guests,” Atemu finished quietly.

Gritting his teeth, Seto glared Atemu down for only a moment before he picked up the case at his side. Giving Atemu a lethal glare, he turned on his heel and strode away, out of sight. Atemu could clearly hear him grumbling, but he did not care. Looking to Juudai, he took a breath, calming himself.

“Is Yuugi alright?” he asked.

“Shouldn't we be a bit concerned about —” Juudai began, but Atemu shook his head.

“Never mind him,” Atemu said. “How's Yuugi?”

“He's fine,” Juudai replied as he looked in the direction Seto had gone with a worried crease in his brow. “I bandaged him up, and the dragon — Timaeus — spent the whole morning getting rid of the poison. It was pretty gross, actually. He had to bite Yuugi and sorta suck it out like some kind of leech. He got it all, though. Poor thing is exhausted. He fell asleep on the heater.” He motioned to the door then. “Do you want to see him?” he asked. “Yuugi, I mean.”

“No,” Atemu said quickly, shaking his head and taking a step back. He cleared his throat, visibly unconcerned. “I need to keep an eye on my cousin. I'll take your word for it.” Atemu took a last glance at the door behind Juudai, the muscle in his jaw twitching imperceptibly. Hands clenching at his sides, Atemu cleared his throat again and brushed past them, heading for the stairs. Yuusei and Juudai watched him go, Yuusei solemnly and Juudai with a dubious grimace.

“Seto's right about one thing,” Yuusei sighed.

“About what?” Juudai asked curiously, turning wary eyes on Yuusei.

“Atemu's pathetic,” Yuusei said with a snort, and Juudai chuckled with him.

“You know he can totally hear you, right?” Juudai said with a grin.

“I know,” Yuusei said, a small humored smile tilting his lips.

* * *

When Atemu arrived in the kitchen, it was to a standoff between Katsuya and Seto. The air was thick with tension and Atemu could clearly see a vein throbbing at his cousin's temple. Looking between the two, Atemu decided not to intervene unless someone brought out claws. He hoped his presence alone would serve as a deterrent and made his way to the counter where the coffeemaker waited, his shoulders tense.

“Have you even slept?” Katsuya asked him with a furrow of concern in his brow, pointedly ignoring Seto's glare.

“I'm not tired,” Atemu said as he started yet another pot of coffee, turning slightly so his back was not to Seto. “I'm sorry there isn't much by the way of food.”

“It's alright,” Katsuya said, waving a dismissive hand. “I've sent Hiroto to get some for us all. Your brother gave him directions.”

Pausing in his movements, Atemu looked at Katsuya with surprise.

“You didn't have to do that,” he said. “What if he's attacked?”

“Hiroto's an ex-hun —” Katsuya cleared his throat abruptly and reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “I mean, he can take care of himself.”

“An ex-hunter?” Atemu said, voicing the word Katsuya had not fully let slip. He frowned, but his expression soon cleared and he shook his head, shoulders falling. “Well, it doesn't matter —” A derisive snort called their attention to Seto who glowered at Katsuya.

“Do you see what you've brought into your house?” Seto snarled at Atemu, though his icy gaze remained on Katsuya. “A human who hunts our kind without bias —”

“That's not Hiroto anymore,” snapped Katsuya, whirling on Seto with a glower. “He left that life behind years ago.”

“Oh, I'm sure he did,” Seto sneered. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“He did!” Katsuya growled. “What gives you the right to judge my friends!” But instead of answering, Seto merely smirked, set his empty mug on the counter, and left the house through the kitchen door, metal briefcase still in hand. “That guy is so annoying!” Katsuya said once the door had shut behind him, looking to Atemu.

“Yeah,” Atemu sighed. “I tend to ignore him. His twin is much better company.”

“There's _two_ of them?” Katsuya gawked.

“Yep,” Atemu said as he started the machine and stepped back. Leaning against the counter, he shrugged. “But Set is pretty boring.”

“Wait,” Katsuya said, a smirk pushing at his cheek, “they're named Set and Seto?” He snorted a laugh. “Oh, my — no wonder this one's a prick.” He chortled for a few seconds before sighing and moving to take a seat at the table. His mood suddenly shifted, turning serious. “By the way,” he said slowly, “about the pair of creeps after your fae friend.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, contemplative. “Those guys are bad news,” he said, and Atemu nodded. “What exactly do you plan to do with them?”

“I'm not sure what you mean,” Atemu confessed, “I haven't thought much past find them and kill them.”

“This isn't our world,” Katsuya said pointedly. “You can't just kill them and expect no one to notice.” He shrugged when Atemu frowned. “You should just think it through,” he said. “Humans and their rules aside, killing isn't something to take easy. Supernatural enemies or no, it's something you're going to have to live with for the rest of your life. A life is a life, no matter how bad. I hope you have the stomach for it.”

Atemu was silent, the words mulling over in his head.

“This is something you learned the hard way?” Atemu asked, but Katsuya did not answer. Instead, he sighed, dropping his gaze and reaching up to scratch at his scalp.

“Whatever I've done in my past,” he said, running his fingers through his hair, “it's done and I've got to live with it. No reason to give you nightmares too.”

“Are you trying to sound deep and mysterious?” Atemu asked dubiously, echoing Katsuya's earlier words. At that, Katsuya laughed before shaking his head.

“I like you, you're funny,” he said genially before he cleared his throat. “But seriously, think it through.”

“Not much to think about,” Atemu said, shrugging. “They killed my parents, they tried to kill me, and they kidnapped and tortured Yuugi. They don't seem like the kind to call it quits. Either I get rid of them, or they stay a threat.”

“They killed your parents?” Katsuya said. His brow creased and he shook his head. “Oh, man. You do what you gotta do then.”

“There's more than one way to eliminate a threat without resorting to killing,” said a soft voice. Looking up, Atemu saw the redheaded girl, Shizuka. She was wearing a similar outfit to the day before, a pink turtleneck under a warm, beige vest along with black leggings and fur-lined boots. “Taking a cat's claws,” she said, “takes their ability to scratch.”

“Cats have teeth to bite,” Atemu retorted. “Should we rip those out too?” He crossed his arms over his chest, raising his eyebrows at her. “You want to handicap them so they can live a half-life?” With a scoff, Atemu walked over to pull coffee mugs from the rack next to the sink. Serving himself, Atemu forewent the sugar and milk, more than ready to take his leave. Looking to the siblings in turn, Atemu began to make his way out of the kitchen with a few last words. “Sugar's in the cupboard and milk's in the fridge,” he called over his shoulder in lieu of a goodbye.

Without further ado, he crossed through the living room and made his way up the stairs. Despite his certain answer, both Katsuya and Shizuka's words resonated in his mind. They lingered against his will, seeping doubt into what he had clutched firmly in his mind's grasp.

 _Is killing Siegfried really the only way to stop him?_ Atemu thought to himself before ripping himself away from the thought, stumbling on a stair. He gripped the banister firmly and settled his feet, clenching his jaw. _No,_ Atemu thought as he continued on, _I've made up my mind._

Yet his preoccupation stubbornly remained as Atemu rounded the banister at the top, and instantly collided with Juudai.

“Oh, crap, sorry!” Juudai said, backing away and bumping into Yuusei, who stilled him with a hand. Juudai looked down at the floor at Atemu's feet. “Dude, are you okay?” he asked, effectively distracting Atemu from his thoughts.

“You're the one who broke my fireplace,” Atemu realized. At Juudai's embarrassed flush, Atemu knew he had hit the bullseye.

“Never mind that,” Juudai said, waving his hands with a nervous — definitely guilty — laugh. He pointed down to Atemu's feet. “You alright?”

“Yes,” Atemu said, nonplussed. “Why?”

“I, uh,” Juudai hesitated, looking up at him. “I stepped on you?” He looked down again. “Pretty hard too, and you're not even wearing shoes. My bad.”

“I'm fine,” Atemu said. “Barely felt it.”

“How?” Juudai asked, baffled.

“Must be frostbite from all those times he goes out barefoot,” Yuusei remarked, and Atemu rolled his eyes.

“I have dense bones,” Atemu sighed. “You know this, Yuusei.” He turned to Juudai. “Your clumsiness isn't going to hurt me.”

“Holy cow, really?” Juudai gaped.

“Yes, really,” Atemu said derisively. “How do you think I lift things? You have them too — probably not as dense as mine, since you're only a halfblood.” He shrugged. “We _have_ to have dense bones in order to do half the stuff we're able to do.” He looked Juudai up and down, eyeing him. “How do you not know this? Do you even lift?”

“Atemu,” Yuusei said sharply, and Atemu looked at him, confused.

“What?” he said.

“Sorry,” Juudai said, and Atemu looked at him, noting his downtrodden expression. “I don't know much about my werewolf side. I grew up with witches and fae.” He shrugged, and cleared his throat. “I'm gonna go get some of that coffee I smell.” He rounded Atemu and departed down the stairs, leaving Atemu alone with Yuusei.

“You're such a dick sometimes,” Yuusei said, and Atemu scowled at him. “No,” Yuusei said, shaking his head, “you're not allowed to feel offended. Juudai's adopted, remember? He didn't grow up in a pack like you did. So if he doesn't know something you do, you shouldn't be a shithead about it.” Shaking his head, Yuusei also left, leaving Atemu alone.

It was then that he was brutally reminded with a cringing pang in his chest that Yuusei, too, was adopted. Atemu stood, gut churning as he recalled the difficulty with which Yuusei had learned about himself, his shifting. He imagined that Juudai had suffered through much the same hardships. Closing his eyes, Atemu cursed himself.

It certainly explained Juudai's constant curiosity. The questions Juudai often threw at him suddenly made sense. Having not had any werewolf family, Atemu presumed that Juudai had grown up learning about himself in any way he could. Atemu realized that stumbling onto him must have seemed like a goldmine to Juudai. Here Atemu was, a veritable fountain of werewolf information, but all Atemu had done was discourage any attempt to learn about himself.

He felt like shit.

 _I need to apologize,_ Atemu thought. _To both of them._

Sighing, he rolled his shoulders, taking a deep breath. He looked to the next staircase, preparing to go up to his room for a much-needed shower before seeking out Yuusei and Juudai, when his eyes fell upon Yuugi's door.

Hesitant, Atemu crept down the hall, slowing his step outside the door to Yuugi's temporary haven. Once upon a time, the room had been his own. He recalled the chests filled with toys, the drawings pinned to the walls, a redheaded five-year-old playing hide and seek with a short redheaded woman. He remembered her grin, her lilting laugh, her sweet voice that always sounded like she would break into song. Atemu's brow creased with the memories and he abruptly discarded them with a whooshing exhale to that place where he seldom ventured. He expelled the memories to the darkest pits of denial where even his deepest self-reflection refused to go.

Frowning to himself, Atemu closed his eyes and listened carefully to the present. He could hear the low hum of the heater, the gentle rumbling of the sleeping dragon. Bypassing that, Atemu honed in on the sound of Yuugi's quiet breaths and steady heartbeat. He was sleeping easily from the sound of it. What was more, he did not hear Juudai anywhere nearby. From what he could hear, Juudai was in the kitchen with Yuusei and Mai. Juudai was talking about protective spells he could put up. In the basement, he could hear the washing machine running, and Katsuya speaking to his sister.

He wallowed in the sounds of the home, a warm feeling sparking in his gut.

It had been a while since Atemu had last been in a full house. He had missed it, the sound of Life. It was a stark contrast to the dead silence that had enveloped the abode only a few days earlier. His shoulders relaxed, and he breathed easy as he took it all in.

It was then that Atemu realized the feeling of home was only temporary. His boarders would leave soon for one reason or another. If everything went well and they managed to eliminate the witch called Siegfried, then there would be no more reason for anyone to stay. Even Yuusei would leave and go back to his own place in town where he lived with his obnoxious unicorn roommate.

Atemu could not remember his name.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the door before him, and his stomach twisted. Wetting his dry lips with his tongue, Atemu gulped down the uneasy feeling in his stomach and took hold of the doorknob. With a deep breath, he turned the knob and pushed in the door.


	15. Fear Is Relative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atemu finds himself in Yuugi's company with feelings he doesn't know what to do with. All he knows is that he doesn't like them. In the end, he discovers that he and Yuugi decidedly do not see eye-to-eye. Meanwhile, Yuugi has feelings of his own, and he opens up to Juudai about those he cannot hold in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first: you can now find me on tumblr!!! Please visit [@floreswrites](http://floreswrites.tumblr.com/) to get all the latest goods on my fics (also to read some new excerpts)! (Follow my twitter, [@nanadanonini](https://twitter.com/nanadanonini), too while you're at it!)
> 
> News on progress: I've got three one shots I need to finish, and I'm still working on both [TA](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874354) & [MIL](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161750).
> 
> While you wait, please enjoy this chapter.

Stepping into his childhood bedroom, Atemu shut the door behind him. The toy chests, his foam play mat, the drawings on the walls, and even the guard rails attached to the canopy bed, they were all gone. Nothing except the barest furniture remained in the room.

Immediately, his eyes went to the heater that laid on its side, on top of which the dragon — Timaeus, as Juudai had called him — slumbered. Unsure of his next move, Atemu stood, staring at the dragon. It looked reptilian, its skin like a crocodile's with ridges down its back.

Before Yuugi had tripped ass-first into his life, Atemu had never encountered such a creature. Hell, he had not even known fairies were real. His eyes went to Yuugi then, and his stomach twisted with an emotion he could not place. He cautiously walked over to the bed and gently set his mug down on the windowsill. Pausing at Yuugi's bedside, Atemu looked down at him. Yuugi was covered up to his chin. There was a strong pallor to his blue skin, and Atemu grit his teeth, his hands flexing by his sides.

Reaching out, he gently pulled on the sheets, careful not to wake Yuugi. His eyes roved briefly over the baggy tank that belonged to him before he searched for Yuugi's wounds.

One of Yuugi's arms was completely bound in bandages from fingertips to a little beyond the elbow and his opposite shoulder was wrapped as well. The dressings were fresh and smelled heavily of the green goop Yuugi had used on him.

Remorse filled him.

Clenching his hand Atemu stood uselessly, his eyes fixating on the large piece of gauze taped to Yuugi's cheek. He glared at it.

That Yuugi had gotten hurt was his fault. If he had stayed with his pack like Seto had asked of him and never come to town, Yuugi would not be lying before him, unconscious and hurt. He sighed, shaking his head and clearing it of thought. Taking a deep breath, he instantly huffed it out.

Pulling on the collar of his shirt, Atemu looked down at his own bandaged wound and grimaced. Instead of smelling like medicinal plant mush, the cloth now reeked of blood and old sweat. He had not taken the time to redress his wound or even taken a shower for that matter. He vaguely wondered why no one had bothered to point out his rancid stench, but reasoned that no one wanted to insult him.

In that instant, Yuugi gasped awake, eyes snapping open and spinning wildly as he panted. The scent of fear suffused the room and Yuugi's heart rate skyrocketed. Unthinkingly, Atemu leaved over and reached out, placing a hand on the uninjured part of Yuugi's arm, the other cupping his bandaged cheek.

“Yuugi,” he said, “it's me — Atemu.”

Shifting away in his fright, Yuugi's wide eyes went to him. For a moment, there was no recognition in his eyes. They only stared at him, terrified.

“It's me,” Atemu repeated, and Yuugi blinked, the fear vanishing as he finally identified Atemu. He visibly deflated, his heartbeat easing as he breathed a sigh of relief. With closed eyes, Yuugi huffed a small sob before he moved, sitting up and pulling Atemu down into his arms with a full-body wince. It was obvious that his wounds pained him, but Yuugi held on regardless.

“Thank cheese,” Yuugi whispered, his voice hoarse, and Atemu stilled, his hands hanging awkwardly in the air. He hesitated for only a moment before he sat on the edge of the bed and embraced Yuugi loosely, awkwardly patting his back.

“Don't worry,” Atemu said, “you're safe.”

“Atemu,” Yuugi said quietly, as if reassuring himself, and Atemu nodded into Yuugi's hair. The scent of lavender was everywhere. It filled every crevice of the room. And no matter how hard Atemu tried, it was impossible not to breathe it in.

“Yeah,” Atemu said lamely. His shoulders relaxed. “It's me.” He felt Yuugi sigh again and he cleared his throat. “You're safe,” he said dumbly, for lack of anything better to say and Yuugi nodded into his chest, rubbing painfully into his wound. He refrained from wincing, if only to keep Yuugi calm, and glanced around to the heater where the dragon was awake and watching him with beady green eyes. It unnerved him slightly, but he simply turned back to Yuugi, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion. Sniffing lightly, Yuugi nosed his chest, pointedly avoiding the amulet, and Atemu closed an eye when it watered in pain. “Are you okay?” Atemu asked uncertainly.

“I'm okay,” Yuugi softly replied and he abruptly pulled away, looking far from alright. “Sorry,” Yuugi said, embarrassed, but Atemu shook his head.

Yuugi looked absolutely wrecked and incredibly small in the full-sized bed. The “Sun's Out, Guns Out” shirt danging from his frame did not help his case either. He was pale, the whites of his eyes tinged blue. It was the most fragile Atemu had ever seen him look. He swore a slight breeze could knock him over.

The mere sight of him formed a knot in Atemu's throat, so tight it hurt.

 _You don't look okay,_ Atemu thought. He waited for a reply, but Yuugi said nothing. _Are you sure you're alright?_ he asked within his head, but Yuugi still did not answer him.

Taking a deep breath, Yuugi rubbed at his eyes and winced when both arms pained him.

“Can't you hear me?” Atemu asked aloud, and Yuugi started at the sound of his voice.

Atemu's jaw clenched.

“Huh?” Yuugi said, turning his gaze upon him. “You didn't say anything.”

“My thoughts,” Atemu said, and Yuugi frowned.

“Juudai put the goop on me,” Yuugi mumbled, lifting his bandaged arm and staring at it. “I can't even use my magic.” He raised his other hand and frowned at its blue hue. Self-consciously, he ran a hand over his arms and to the shoulder-straps of the borrowed tank top. He fingered the material for a second before he abruptly dropped his head, his blonde bangs falling across his face. Yuugi curled into himself with a full body wince. “I can't use my glamour.” With a tremble, he wrapped his arms around himself and did not look at Atemu when he spoke, using his knees to pull the blanket up against him. “So what did you say?”

“I said you look like crap,” Atemu said without missing a beat, and a wry laugh escaped Yuugi's lips.

“I probably do,” Yuugi agreed, shrinking further into himself, and it occurred to Atemu that his words sounded distinctly self-deprecating. He frowned.

“And,” Atemu hedged, struggling for words with an uncomfortably clenched gut, “who cares if you can't use your glamour. No one here is gonna give you shit for being fae. I'll put them through a wall if they do.”

Yuugi's head shot up, startled, and Atemu shifted awkwardly.

“Sorry,” Atemu said, but he was not sure what he was apologizing for. Whether for his poor choice of words or for whatever hardships Yuugi had faced throughout his life, all Atemu knew was that if felt necessary to say. Regardless, Yuugi shook his head, a small, warm smile pulling at his lips.

“It's alright,” he said, and he slowly extended his legs, his back growing straighter. He yawned then, the bags under his eyes growing even darker with the action. Yuugi looked beyond tired, and Atemu frowned in concern. Groaning, Yuugi rubbed at his eyes. “I know I should probably sleep more,” Yuugi said, “but I really don't want to sleep.”

The sight of Yuugi panicking when he woke was fresh in mind and Atemu understood Yuugi's desire to remain awake. Whatever the witch had done to Yuugi had left its mark and Atemu suddenly felt a wave of rage surge through him, Yuugi startling beside him when he growled. Regardless of Katsuya's prattle about living with the decision he made, Atemu vowed to kill the two. Their vendetta was with his family, not with innocent bystanders, but they had dragged Yuugi into it and Atemu's hate for them grew until it boiled and writhed in his stomach.

“Atemu,” Yuugi questioned nervously, “are you alright?”

“I'll make them pay,” Atemu swore darkly, and Yuugi's eyes widened. “Even if it's the last thing I do.”

“What?” Yuugi said, puzzled. “Who will — not them — they're still alive?”

The surprise caught Atemu off guard, and his anger subsided enough for him to focus on Yuugi. He released a breath, forcibly keeping his anger at bay.

“Juudai didn't tell you?” Atemu asked with a skeptical brow, and Yuugi shook his head. The fear in Yuugi's eyes tore at Atemu and he placed his hand on Yuugi's shoulder, meeting his gaze.

“They were gone once we got there,” Atemu explained. “Katsuya and his group —”

“I know that part,” Yuugi said. “That group found me and somehow called Juudai. But Juudai didn't mention what had happened to _them,_ so I just assumed…” He shuddered.

“Don't worry,” Atemu said, “I'll see to them myself. They won't be around long enough to hurt you again.” Yuugi bit his bottom lip, but said nothing, tilting his head down to think. A tuft of blonde hair fell across his face, and Atemu absently lifted his hand from Yuugi's shoulder and brushed the hair back behind his ear. Yuugi looked at him again with that tired and fearful gaze, and Atemu's breath lodged somewhere in his throat. He was still as Yuugi's eyes searched his own, and he swallowed thickly. “Never again,” Atemu heard himself say. “I promise I'll protect you.”

Yuugi's breath hitched and his heart skipped several beats. His hand slipped to Atemu's wrist, trailing up to lay against it, and Atemu started at the touch, realizing with a skip of his heartbeat that he had cupped Yuugi's cheek.

All at once, Atemu was avidly aware of him, of Yuugi's gentle breaths fanning across his lips and the warmth of his cheek against his hand. He was unsure of when exactly he had gotten so close. If he tried, Atemu could count every lash dotting Yuugi's lids and every freckle in his plum-colored irises. Gingerly, he swept his thumb over the curve of Yuugi's smooth skin, achingly slow, and his mouth felt disconcertingly dry.

“I'll keep you safe,” he murmured, and the color quickly returned to Yuugi's cheeks, a blush that spread over the bridge of his nose like a wave of blossoming bluebonnets. Slowly, his other hand came up and Atemu swept a feather of bangs back behind his ear, his touch gentle. He did not pull away. In that moment, Atemu held Yuugi's face in both his hands, breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttering in his chest. Lowering his eyes to Yuugi's mouth, Atemu felt his mouth dry up more than a riverbed in a ten-year drought. Yuugi's lips were parted in what painfully felt like expectation, the bow of his top lip calling to him sweetly. In his gut, Atemu knew he could kiss Yuugi then. There was a need that went all the way to his bones and burned him like nothing else before it.

It frightened him.

His hands were clammy, his heart was racing, and his skin ruptured with goosebumps of anticipation. He did not like it. Reeling back, Atemu pulled his hands away and broke eye contact, his heart palpitating as a cold sweat broke out on his skin. Balling his hands into fists, he stuffed them into his pockets where they could no longer betray him. A couple of seconds later, he smelled the disappointment and he knew, beyond a doubt, that some of it was his own.

“You should get some rest,” he said, and from the corner of his eye, he saw Yuugi look away from him, the crease in his brow and the twist of his lips ashamed. Atemu faltered for only a second, and pretended he had not seen it. He cleared his throat. “I need to —”

“You should rest too,” Yuugi said with a shaky breath, his voice quiet and struggling to return to normal. “If you don't, you'll pass out.”

“I'm fine,” Atemu sighed, and he was not lying. His body felt great, _normal,_ and his wound did not hurt as much as before.

Looking up, Yuugi frowned at him, his eyes roving over him skeptically.

“I hate not being able to hear your thoughts,” Yuugi admitted in a nettled mutter.

Looking around, Atemu smiled at Yuugi against his will, and it was Yuugi who glanced away this time.

“I really am okay,” Atemu said, his words careful. He was overly aware of the sudden space between them that had not been there before. “I feel great, actually.”

“I don't understand how,” Yuugi said, his tone worried. “You're still healing, remember?” He glanced around to eye Atemu's chest with pursed lips. “Have you been changing your bandages?”

“Well,” Atemu shrugged mechanically, “there hasn't exactly been a chance for it.” Yet Atemu knew that was a lie. He had had the entire morning to change his bandages, and instead had spent that time pacing outside Yuugi's door.

But Atemu would rather be struck with another curse than ever admit that. Especially not at that moment when all he could think of was how close he had been to kissing Yuugi.

How easy it would be to kiss him now.

In his pockets, his hands clenched so hard they shook.

“Cheese, Atemu,” Yuugi groaned, and Atemu forced himself to return to the present. Yuugi met his eyes once more. “It's going to end up infected.” He shook his head resolutely. “I'll do it,” he said, “just bring me the poultice, fresh bandages, and the first aid kit. I hope there's still bandages. We might need to get more at this rate.”

“Yuugi,” Atemu scoffed, “I'm perfectly able to —”

“Obviously not, since you _haven't,”_ Yuugi interrupted with annoyance, “now go get my things — and take a shower while you're at it.” He briskly waved him away, his movements stilted with pretense, and Atemu stared at him, part begrudgingly amused and part concerned. “I'll be waiting for you right here.” When Atemu did not move, Yuugi waved him away again and Atemu rolled his eyes before standing up and leaving the room.

But as soon as he closed the door, Atemu paused, his gut churning and his heart thudding dully.

 _I almost kissed him,_ Atemu thought, his heart skipping a beat in what he swore was horror. _What the absolute fuck was I thinking?_

Raising a hand to his forehead, Atemu closed his eyes and breathed out sharply. He felt clammy all over. Shrugging it off, he took two steps when he heard Yuugi utter a soft curse.

“Fuck,” Yuugi whispered in a shuddering breath, and Atemu fully agreed.

“Fuck” summed it up perfectly well.

Taking a deep breath, Atemu continued on his way, turning his thoughts to Siegfried instead. A murderous witch was a much simpler matter to deal with after all.

* * *

Minutes after Atemu had gone, Yuugi pulled his knees up and held them, wincing at the pain in his arms. Shoulders slumping, he sighed.

 _Idiot,_ he thought, _why did you try to kiss him?_

“What did you expect?” Yuugi whispered to himself. “Did you really think he'd suddenly like you?”

 _I like you,_ said an unfamiliar voice, and Yuugi jumped, lifting his head.

Looking around, he spotted Timaeus sitting upright on the heater, head turned his way and tail curling around himself.

 _I like you,_ he repeated in that innocent child's voice, and Yuugi felt a smile pull at his lips against his will.

“Thank you,” Yuugi said. “Um, hello.” But before he could say anything else, the door opened to reveal a nervous Juudai.

“Bro?” Juudai called, and Yuugi's smile widened.

“Hey, Juudai,” Yuugi greeted.

“Can I come in?” Juudai asked, and Yuugi frowned in bewilderment.

“Of course you can,” he replied, confused at Juudai's cautious behavior. Dropping his legs, he motioned Juudai in with a hand. “Come in.”

Glancing around the room, Juudai slowly walked in, standing just inside before closing the door behind him. Yuugi's bewilderment turned to concern as Juudai hesitated. He had opened his mouth to speak, when Juudai darted forward and jumped onto the bed, jostling Yuugi and hugging him.

“You don't look so pale anymore,” Juudai said, relieved. “Man, I was so worried they'd done something to you that I couldn't fix!”

“Hey now,” Yuugi hushed, holding in his wince as Juudai squeezed him. “I'm fine. I can't be taken down that easily.”

“Damn, I should hope not,” Juudai remarked, and he abruptly let go. “Oh, snap, sorry,” he said. “Didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I'm good,” Yuugi said, shrugging it off. He winced then, groaning at the pain. “Actually,” Yuugi said, “I could use some pain meds.”

“Oh, we got some ibuprofen in the kit,” Juudai said, “let me get it for you.” He backed up off the bed and ran to the door, opening it. He was about to dart off, when Yuugi called him back.

“Hey Juudai?”

Juudai paused, looking back at Yuugi.

“Yeah?” Juudai asked.

Yuugi plucked at the tank he wore.

“Where did these clothes come from?” Yuugi asked. “They're not mine.”

“Oh, yeah,” Juudai said as if he had forgotten. He nodded. “They're Atemu's,” he said and darted away before Yuugi could react.

Yuugi stared after him, eyes wide and breath stilled in his lungs.

 _Atemu's?_ he thought to himself, and he reached up to grip the collar. Glancing out at the hall beyond the open door, Yuugi tentatively raised the clothing to his nose. He sniffed it and immediately dropped it with a huff.

It smelled of him and plant mush.

He sighed in disappointment.

Noticing the words upon it, Yuugi held out the end to read them.

 _“Sun's out, guns out”, huh?_ he thought, amused. _Of course Juudai picked this one. Never change, Juudai._ He smiled.

A cough caught Yuugi's attention then and Yuugi looked down as a small dragon leapt up onto the bed, carefully slinking forward. Yuugi stared, curious.

 _I'm sorry,_ came the sheepish apology, and Yuugi tilted his head. _I don't like him._

“Who?” Yuugi asked.

 _The werewolf,_ Timaeus answered, tail tucking beneath him.

“Juudai?” Yuugi asked.

 _The other werewolf,_ Timaeus said and he hissed, a white cloud escaping his mouth. _Juudai is okay,_ Timaeus said. _He's family._

“So you'll only put up with him because he's family?” Yuugi said, and Timaeus nodded sulkily.

_Yes._

Yuugi laughed.

When Juudai returned, Yuugi gave Timaeus a pointed look when he bared his fangs.

“Behave,” he warned and Timaeus abruptly closed his snout before moving to curl against Yuugi's feet. Yuugi smiled as Juudai held out a cup of water and a sealed packet of pain medication.

Yuugi took the medicine and drank the water before handing over the glass and the empty foil packet. He paused when he noticed Juudai squinting at him.

“What?” he asked, and Juudai's gaze dropped to the bedspread in thought.

He sighed.

“Are you okay, Yuugi?” Juudai asked softly.

“I'm fine,” Yuugi said with a halfhearted shrug and Juudai grimaced at him.

“No, you're not,” Juudai said, and Yuugi shook his head.

“I really am,” he insisted, and Juudai sighed.

“Yuugi, I can tell when you're lying,” Juudai said, and Yuugi looked up, frowning at him.

“Did Atemu teach you —”

“Yuugi,” Juudai interrupted, exasperated, “I've spent my entire life with you. I know your every breath, fart, and awkward late night jerk.”

Yuugi winced.

“You really think I can't tell when you're lying to me?” Juudai continued without pause. “Your voice literally gains a pitch and your heart does that weird _woo-woop_ thing.” He made an odd abrupt gesture in front of his chest to indicate Yuugi's stuttering heartbeat.

“'Woo-woop'?” Yuugi questioned, and Juudai shrugged.

“I don't know,” he complained, dropping down onto the bed. Timaeus bounced with the movement, letting out an annoyed hiss. However, Juudai paid him no mind. “But still!” Juudai said. “I know you, Yuugi. You're my brother, but more than that, you're part of my pack. I know when you lie and I know what you're feeling just as well as if it were me!” He frowned, lowering his head and grabbing Yuugi's uninjured bicep. He squeezed. “And I know you're not okay.”

“So you know I ate the coconut macaroons, huh,” Yuugi said with a wry smile, and Juudai grinned against his will.

“Yep,” he said, “but you always buy more, so I don't mind.”

Yuugi laughed.

The sound died away and, for a moment, he was quiet. Yuugi's brow furrowed and his shoulders hunched, dropping the pretense. Juudai wanted nothing more than to look away. Seeing his strong older brother look so vulnerable and scared was a hard sight to behold. He had never before seen Yuugi look so fragile.

Yuugi had always looked out for him. When they had been children, Yuugi had often taken the blame for many of his mischievous stunts without even batting an eyelash. He had stuck by Juudai's side since he had arrived, and they had been an inseparable duo ever since. He had taught Juudai almost everything he knew. Juudai looked up to Yuugi. His big brother was his role model, his idol. But for once in his life, Juudai felt that their roles had switched. He was no longer the kid in need of protection.

He was the protector.

“I'm not okay,” Yuugi said quietly, and Juudai nodded, letting go of Yuugi's bicep to take his hand. He squeezed it in comfort.

“I know,” Juudai mumbled.

“I was kidnapped and poisoned,” Yuugi whispered. “Of course I'm not okay.”

“I'm here, Yuugi,” Juudai said, “and you're here with me. You're safe now.”

“Y-yeah,” Yuugi breathed shakily. “I know.” He grimaced. “I feel like this … what happened to me — I think it's going to stick with me for a while.”

“I get it,” Juudai said sincerely. “If an evil witch kidnapped and tortured me, I'd probably feel the same way.” He shuffled closer. “I'm here, bro. I know it's usually me leaning on you, but this time you lean on me.” He opened his arms, and Yuugi felt his heart clench in his chest. His sinuses burned and Juudai's only warning was a single sob before Yuugi collapsed against him, shaking and crying.

Yuugi let loose the sheer terror he had held in his heart. He unleashed all of the horror he had experienced in his sobs, and he clung to Juudai like a lifeline, grateful for his little brother.

“Cry it out,” Juudai said, and his voice was unusually calm. “It's alright, Yuugi. You're safe now.”

* * *

When Atemu returned, he was showered and dressed in comfortable, thick sweatpants and a vermilion-colored robe. He had ventured downstairs for Yuugi's things, but had yet to see his brother or Yuugi's for that apology he owed them. He paused outside of the bedroom, his hesitation stemming not from the pain of his memories, but from the apprehension he felt around Yuugi. Steeling himself, Atemu shook off the feeling and walked into the room. He arrived to the sight of the teal-colored dragon sitting on the bed at Yuugi's feet, looking calm and curious. Yuugi himself, however, appeared confused and slightly nervous. Without a word, Atemu approached and Yuugi looked.

Atemu faltered.

The area around Yuugi's eyes was swollen and tinged with a darker blue than the rest of his face. The tip of his nose also bore a darker hue. It was obvious to Atemu that Yuugi had cried recently. Approaching carefully, he attempted to swallow down the painful lump forming in his throat.

“I didn't think you'd actually come back,” Yuugi said, and Atemu noted that his voice was distinctly throaty.

 _Did you cry because of me?_ Atemu wondered.

He did not voice his question.

“You're a witch,” Atemu shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. “I figure one curse is enough.” At his jest, Yuugi's eyes lit up with mirth and he chuckled.

Atemu felt himself relax.

Whatever had caused Yuugi's tears did not seem to be connected to him.

Abruptly, Yuugi stopped laughing and turned to the dragon, a frown pulling his eyebrows down and together.

“Don't be rude,” Yuugi said to the dragon. “That's _his_ heater you were enjoying.” In answer, the dragon puffed a small cloud of smoke at Yuugi and Yuugi sighed. “You're going to be a handful, aren't you,” he said, but it was not a question. Seeing Atemu's confusion, Yuugi smiled sheepishly.

“I thought you couldn't hear thoughts?” Atemu said with a frown.

“I can't,” Yuugi said. “Timaeus is using his own magic. He can transfer his thoughts, but he can't hear mine. I have to answer him out loud.”

“I see,” Atemu said. He stood beside the bed, a wary eye on the dragon. Noticing this Yuugi cleared his throat.

“Um, Atemu, this is my familiar, Timaeus. Timaeus, this is —” He stopped abruptly and he scowled, pointing a strict finger at Timaeus. “Hey,” he said, “be nice!” Yuugi nudged the dragon with his foot, and Timaeus turned his green eyes upon Atemu.

 _You don't deserve him,_ came the intrusive thought into Atemu's mind and Atemu frowned, uncertain before he realized it had sounded nothing like his inner voice. It was far younger and petulant, like a child's. _Now, smile like I was nice to you,_ it said, and Atemu finally realized it was the dragon speaking to him. He scoffed, eyebrows rising in disbelief. Setting Yuugi's things on the bed, he turned and narrowed his eyes on the dragon.

“I don't take orders from lizards,” Atemu said with more smugness than he meant to use, and the dragon hissed at him with annoyance.

 _Dumb werewolf,_ Timaeus rasped in his head, and Atemu growled.

“I've taken down lizards bigger than you,” Atemu snarked.

Timaeus hissed again, snapping his jaws.

“Timaeus,” Yuugi sighed, shaking his head, “please go back to the heater.” He looked taken aback for a moment before reaffirming his voice. “Don't sass me, young, uh, dragon,” Yuugi said, “I'm older than you. I will talk to you later.” He pointed to the heater before he looked to Atemu, motioning him to sit. With that, Timaeus trotted off the bed, but not before snapping his jaws again in Atemu's direction. He scampered before either Yuugi or Atemu could retaliate. “He's just grumpy,” Yuugi said, “about sharing my attention.

“When Juudai was in here earlier,” Yuugi continued, “he said he'd tolerate him because he's family.” He laughed, taking the messenger bag Atemu had left for him and opening it.

Atemu relaxed fully at that. The awkwardness from before was nowhere to be found. As far as Atemu knew, Yuugi was acting completely normal, and he was thankful for it. He sighed silently.

Searching through the bag, Yuugi pulled out the jar of green goop and a first aid kit.

“Of all things,” he said quietly, “my familiar is a dragon.” Finally, Atemu sat and Yuugi plucked at his robe as he took up the jar, unscrewing the lid with a preoccupied look in his eye.

“What is it?” Atemu asked as he pulled off his robe.

“Dragons and fae don't get along,” Yuugi said softly, his eyes trailing over to where Timaeus had curled up on the heater, “we're natural enemies. Our magic can't penetrate their hides and their fire breath can't burn fair folk.”

“Really?” Atemu said, pausing as he set the robe aside. “Their fire can't hurt you?”

“At least, according to the stories,” Yuugi said with a shrug, “but I'm not very keen to test that theory because it doesn't seem likely. Dragons haven't been around for millennia or something like that.” He suddenly grimaced. “Not to mention,” he said, “that dragons find fair folk particularly delicious — and this is all according to my grandpa, what _his_ grandfather had told him.”

 _“Millennia_ — I thought your grandfather was human,” Atemu said carefully, and when Yuugi gave him a look of surprise, he shrugged sheepishly. “Juudai told us.”

“Well, Juudai is right,” Yuugi said, waving the jar of the lid around as he began to explain, “he was born without the gift, so he is human. But he's also about a thousand years old and unwilling to share.” He placed the lid aside, a contemplative expression on his face as Atemu absorbed the information. Licking his lips, Yuugi said, “My grandpa made some mistakes in his life. He did things he's not proud of. Yet, even after all he's told me … he still won't say how he got to live this long.”

“Can't you just read his mind?” Atemu asked and Yuugi huffed.

“That would be an invasion of privacy,” Yuugi said stiffly, “and —”

“You can't, can you,” Atemu smirked, and Yuugi deflated. He watched as Yuugi screwed up his face in discontent, grateful for the ease with which they conversed. There was no hesitation from Yuugi and the tension from before had vanished into thin air.

“Not even a little bit,” Yuugi replied with a blush. “As soon as my parents realized I could read thoughts, they took preventative measures.” Absently, he raised a hand to finger his collarbone. “They made me an amulet to keep my power in check,” he said, “but by the time I was eight, my gift grew too powerful and they made amulets to keep their own thoughts private until I could learn to control my gift.” He laughed uncomfortably. “It's been fifteen years and I still can't figure out how to stop hearing other people's thoughts.” Sighing, he dropped his hand into his lap. “People just think too loud,” he said wryly.

“How's that?” Atemu asked.

“Some people's thoughts are louder than others,” Yuugi explained. “Yours, for instance, are soft like — well, not whispers exactly, but low like you're speaking very quietly. Sometimes I don't hear them at all.” He shrugged. “It's nice,” he said, and he froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Blushing profusely, he cleared his throat.

“Sometimes it's like listening to a badly tuned radio,” he continued rapidly. He met Atemu's gaze then and quickly looked away, huffing a laugh. “Sometimes it's nothing _but_ a badly tuned radio,” he said with a groan. “Juudai doesn't actually wear his amulet, so I'm privy to most of his … thoughts — _cheese,_ you don't know the horror of 2011. The _wiggles_ and the _shots_ and the _party rocking.”_ Yuugi covered his eyes with a hand, shaking his head and rubbing at his eyelids. “Juudai almost drove me crazy with that music. One day, all I kept hearing was _'shots, shots, shots,'_ and it took me the entire day to realize it wasn't Juudai I was hearing but _me.”_

Much to his chagrin, Atemu laughed and Yuugi pursed his lips.

“So it's not all fun and games then?” Atemu teased, and Yuugi shook his head resolutely.

“No,” Yuugi said, “it isn't.” His expression saddened, eyes lowering to the bedspread. “People can have some very unpleasant thoughts.”

The smile seemed to vanish from Atemu's face as he frowned sympathetically.

“I'm sorry,” he said, but Yuugi shrugged, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “So,” Atemu said, “any way I can get one of those amulets?”

Yuugi laughed, grinning devilishly.

“Who knows?” Yuugi said. “I kind of like keeping you on your toes.”

Raising his eyebrows, Atemu let Yuugi's tease slide. He watched Yuugi pull some bandages from the first aid kit and an alcohol wipe that he used to clean his hands. He then took up the jar again, biting at his lip in thought.

“My grandpa,” Yuugi said hesitantly, “I don't know what all he did in his past, but I can tell they were things he's not proud of, and he lives with the guilt every day of his life.” His eyes trailed up to Atemu's and there was an odd glint there that confused him. “He won't admit it,” Yuugi said quietly, “but I can see it when he thinks he's alone, and I think that's a fate worse than death.” Lowering his gaze to Atemu's wound, Yuugi reached out and held his hand close, not touching. The wound there looked grisly, like his skin would fall off in ribbons of flesh if he so much as touched it. But the blood had finally coagulated and the dark magic was gone. It was on its way to healing. “I don't believe,” Yuugi said, “taking lives is the right thing to do.” From where Atemu was staring at Yuugi's hovering hand, he suddenly looked up, alert. “Maybe it's because I've been using my powers to help people since they showed up.

“But I don't think I could ever take a life,” Yuugi continued, “no matter what that person had done.” He suddenly dropped his hand, grimacing. “I forgot I can't use my magic,” he mumbled to himself.

Suspicion and dread filled Atemu's gut and he frowned disbelievingly. Something in Yuugi's words was suspect, and it churned Atemu's stomach. Yuugi took the goop into his hand and began to spread it over his wound, his violet eyes distant. At the smell of the mush, Atemu scrunched his nose, but he peered at Yuugi.

“What about the witch — _Siegfried?”_ he asked stiffly. “Those guys who hurt you?” Yuugi's hand trembled at the name, and Atemu's lips pursed in dislike. “You can't tell me they don't deserve to die for what they did to you.”

“They're brothers,” Yuugi said instead, “Siegfried and Leonhart.” His hand paused as he wet his lips, gulping dryly. “Leonhart's human,” he said, “and he wants my magic for his own.” He lowered his hand to his lap, sighing. “He seemed sorry for that, but he didn't let it bother him much.” Atemu scoffed, but Yuugi ignored him. “Siegfried … is different,” Yuugi said slowly, shivering. “He's not all there — his own pain doesn't bother him in the least, but he didn't really seem to enjoy _inflicting_ pain. I honestly don't think he even realized he was causing pain.” Yuugi frowned, thinking hard. “He only did what was necessary — to him,” he said, “and his only apparent goal is to hurt the people who hurt his family.” Yuugi met Atemu's eyes then. “And he wants the dragon eggs — which he's convinced you have.”

“My cousin, Seto, has them,” Atemu admitted, and Yuugi's eyes widened, “I didn't even know they existed until he showed up with those eggs.”

“Well,” Yuugi said, appearing uncomfortable, “Siegfried wants them back and he said he'd kill every last one of your pack.”

“And you think a guy like that deserves to live?” Atemu said with derision.

“I'm not saying he deserves to live,” Yuugi said firmly, “I'm saying I won't kill him.”

“A guy like that belongs six feet in the dirt,” Atemu growled. He gestured forcefully at the closest wound, specifically the bandages that ran from the tips of Yuugi's fingers to his elbow. “Just look at what he did to you!” And Yuugi looked to the arm he indicated, but it did not seem like he was listening. He was shaking slightly, his violet eyes distant and the scent coming off of him was that of fear.

“He cut my arm open,” Yuugi said and he unconsciously touched the scar on his unbandaged arm. “He terrified me.” Closing his eyes, he shook his head and took in a deep breath. When he opened them once more, he was present and he looked just as fragile as when he had woken. “But I still don't think he should die,” Yuugi whispered. “Underneath all of that, I saw a tormented man — he saw his coven _burn,_ Atemu.” Yuugi looked at him, desperate pleas in his eyes. “I think he needs help —”

“He's beyond help!” Atemu protested. “How can you defend him? He tried to kill me — he _wants_ to kill me!” Atemu stared at Yuugi in disbelief, and Yuugi shook his head.

“But killing isn't a solution!” Yuugi stressed. “It's _wrong_ and it only brings _more_ pain!”

“I guess this is where we'll have to agree to disagree because killing that witch will solve _everything_ for me,” Atemu snapped, and Yuugi grit his teeth.

“What could you possible have to gain from something so horrible?” Yuugi countered. “He's a living being!”

“He killed my parents!” Atemu roared, incensed as he stood from the bed. His body trembled with barely restrained rage. He could feel the tears in his eyes, hot and angry.

His father and he had fought, constantly, but the man had still loved him all the same. Even as disappointed as he was with Atemu's choices, he had cared for him. As for his mother, Atemu had loved her dearly. He could even swear to hearing her voice before he went out into the cold, fretting over his lack of coat.

 _“You're not an animal,”_ she would say. _“At least not until your Change — and only then will you have fur to keep you warm. Take your coat!”_ Then she would press his coat into his arms, despite Atemu's complaints.

Atemu missed her with a fierce ache of his heart.

Gritting his teeth, he ran distressed fingers through his hair, a growl ripping forth from his throat, anguished and feral. On the bed, Yuugi's eyes widened and he stared at Atemu, dumbstruck.

“How can you expect me to forgive that?” Atemu asked raggedly, turning tormented violet-red eyes onto Yuugi. “To just forget that he murdered my mom and dad?” Atemu shook his head. “They weren't perfect — they hurt people, but they were still my parents and they _loved_ me.”

“Atemu,” Yuugi breathed, his voice small and trembling, “I didn't know. I —”

But Atemu was not listening.

“When I find that fucking witch,” Atemu snarled, “I'll kill him. He killed my _parents,_ Yuugi. I will gut him like he did them and there's nothing you can ever say to change th-that —”

Abruptly, Atemu faltered, the wind in his lungs leaving him in a whoosh. Lifting a hand to his chest, Atemu hunched his body, grimacing as a stabbing pain ripped through his wound, his hand smearing the poultice across his chest. He swayed, confused as Yuugi watched him with wide eyes, lifting his arms as if to catch him.

“Atemu?” Yuugi said, afraid.

“Yu-Yuugi,” Atemu uttered his name in a slur, brow creased as he braced his hand on the pole of the bed to keep himself from swaying. “I — I don't…” he trailed off, shaking his head as though to clear a fog from it. He looked Yuugi directly in the eyes, expression growing panicked. “What's h-happening?” he asked, alarmed, his body shaking from the effort it took to keep him standing. It was like every ounce of strength was sapping from his body, leaving him cold and aching. His wound gave a vicious throb and his knees buckled. In the instant they did, Yuugi grabbed at him and Atemu kneeled on the bed, his hands weakly clutching at Yuugi's arms. It was then that his eyes rolled, lids sliding shut before he fell forward onto Yuugi, unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, guys.
> 
> There's still a lot of stuff going unanswered, but don't worry, we'll get to them. What are some things you're looking forward to finding out?

**Author's Note:**

> (Chapter count subject to change.)
> 
> You can find me on twitter [@nanadanonini](https://twitter.com/nanadanonini).
> 
> Reminder that: I am bilingual and anyone who would prefer to comment in Spanish is welcome to.


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